


Dust to Flowers

by Bbaegi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Divorce, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Sexual Discovery, homosexuality being kept from parents from fear of facing homophobia, in a workplace, junmyeon is very sad :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 98,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbaegi/pseuds/Bbaegi
Summary: Prompt #: Self-PromptTitle: Dust to FlowersPairing: Baekhyun/JunmyeonSummary:As his neighbor's marriage crumbled, Junmyeon wished he had someone to crumble with too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has more of me than anything else I've ever written before. I've poured my soul into it and I hold it very dear to my heart. While writing this, I've perhaps adopted Junmyeon lmao Idk how it happened but after this, I'm 90% closer to worshipping irl Junmyeon!! As for the Junmyeon I've created in this fic, he's one of the very few characters I've written that I love with all my heart. I hope you'll love both him and this fic as a whole too!  
> Thanks to the mods for hosting this fest and giving me bbh content to cry about aksdfj And thanks to my love for betaing this fic and making me love it more than I already did. Your praises? Very good shit.
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/sge0m01e3jpm6i9ilw267fpje/playlist/5qGvKKGEaGVJT6bbtopNlG?si=Y1DO6CNWRZmCMZmO43-Kvg) is a playlist accompanying the fic. It was mostly inspired by Imagine Dragons' Next to Me, the entire plot flashed in my head on my first listen of the song so pls give at least that one a listen!

Junmyeon’s apartment was too crowded. It was always too crowded. He didn’t mind. He preferred a crowd to a void.

 

Pushing a flapping leaf of salad into his sandwich with his thumb, he kicked a few stray shirts out of his path, parting through the blandly colored mob of chaos on his floor to head towards his couch. He slumped down on it, heavily leaning his back on its cushiness, the sigh escaping him ever heavier. He could almost feel it drop down on his lap. He looked down, and with a hand, he pushed away the half empty bottle of stale coke that had toppled over his thigh when he sat down. He really had to stop leaving bottles standing on his couch. People didn’t stand on a couch. They sat. He had to stop.

 

Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth wide and took a too big bite of his sandwich. He hummed. It was a fancy sandwich today. Instead of the usual cheese, tuna, or ham, he had taken the time to boil two eggs, wait for them to cool down, peel them, and put them between two slices of bread along with mayonnaise, tomatoes, and salad. It tasted great. Especially after a whole week of tuna sandwiches for dinner. 

 

He opened his eyes, stared at the black television screen. He should turn it on. There was a sock hanging on top of the screen. He didn’t know how it had ended up there. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed his food. It was the sock he couldn’t find the twin of. He had thrown it there last week in frustration, after he had had to wear the same pair of socks for three days because he hadn’t done laundry and had only one clean lone sock left for him in his drawer. He took another bite. He looked down at his thigh when he felt something landing on it. A slice of egg soaked in mayonnaise. One less pair of pants to wear. He really needed to do laundry. He’d do it. Tomorrow. This weekend. Next week.

 

He caught another slice of egg, yearning for freedom and ready to throw itself out of the sandwich to join the slice still on his thigh. He leaned to catch it between his teeth before it could fall and then took another bite from the top of the sandwich. He was good at sandwiches. He took another bite. He was good at eating quickly. Or rather, he wasn’t good at being alone. 

 

With two fingers, he grabbed the slice of egg, the yolk crumbling a little and sticking to his pants when he lifted it and flicked it to the low table in front of him, right into an empty cup of instant ramyeon. Last week’s. He took another bite, and another, pulling a tomato out and humming in distress when it almost fell out of  the sandwich. With careful fingers, he tried collecting the crumbs of egg on his thigh. The fabric was stained.

 

Junmyeon looked around, looked for the television remote. Usually it was under the pile of used tissues he kept forgetting on the table but it wasn’t there now, he would’ve seen it peeking out. Nor under the braid of four different scarves he kept on the armrest of the couch. Neither amongst the tall, empty, or half empty cans of beers gathered on the floor, right next to the table, huddled close together against the constant cold in the apartment. Or that was what Junmyeon thought. 

 

The crowd in his apartment didn’t warm it up. It was cold. He wished he had someone to huddle close with too. Maybe another can of beer. No. He had work tomorrow. A can of beer always turned into three.

 

He took another bite, looked down. He had two bites left. Three if he took his time. He turned to his left, looking at his companion, reaching a hand up, before stopping. Mayonnaise on his palm. He leaned towards the table and wiped his hand on the tissue that looked the softest and the less used. Then, he finally grabbed his phone. Four minutes since he had started eating. He let his phone sit back down next to him, then looked down at his lap. Crumbles. Looked at his sandwich. Dinner. Meal. Supposed to be eaten on a table. Like normal people. Ordinary people. Swallowing, he slid down, holding the sandwich up in a hand while the other pushed the table away enough to free himself a spot between it and the couch. He slid down more, settled on the floor, winced. There it was.

 

He reached under his left asscheek, pulling the remote out and putting it on the table. He could turn the television on. It seemed pointless. He finished his sandwich in two bites. He grabbed his phone. He had spent a minute on the dining table. It didn’t feel right. He could go shower. Could clean around a little. Could go to sleep. Instead, he remained there, folding his arms on the table. Crumbles of chips under his elbows. He stayed there. Normal people spent at least ten minutes on dining tables. He stayed there, closed his eyes, fooled himself into thinking that he enjoyed the silence of his home.

 

Then, he was relieved by voices through the wall. He opened his eyes. It was soft at first. It always started soft. Just sounds, muffled words he couldn’t make neither the meaning nor the tone of. Junmyeon stayed there. He listened. A female voice arose. She always started screaming first. She screamed the most. Maybe she was the most displeased one in the relationship. Marriage. Junmyeon thought they were married. He listened.

 

 _"Why are you always like this?"_ he heard. Maybe her hands were making wild gestures. Maybe she was pulling on her hair. Maybe not. That felt too dramatic.

 

 _"Why are you screaming?"_ a male voice replied. He rarely screamed. Through the first three weeks after they’d moved in, Junmyeon had never heard him scream. For the past week, she wasn’t the only one to yell anymore. Junmyeon sighed. Wrong. Never ask someone why they’re screaming when they’re screaming. A gentler voice worked better.

 

More muted pieces of a broken marriage. No thumps or other alarming sounds, at least. They’d never gotten physical. 

 

 _"Do you seriously have no idea?"_ she screamed, though Junmyeon couldn’t catch the continuation of her sentence. He strained his ears.

 

 _"No, I don’t fucking understand you."_ Exasperation. Wrong. Ask her what was wrong. Then, maybe, the arguments would stop.

 

Junmyeon stayed there, listened, tried sorting his neighbors’ problems out in his head. He had no problem of his own to sort. Or maybe he didn’t see the problems he needed to sort. Or maybe he was better at sorting other people’s problems. Yes, that sounded about right.

 

It went on for a few more seconds. It never lasted too long. Junmyeon wasn’t sure they stopped after sorting the problem out but they stopped and when it came back, the silence felt bigger than before. 

 

Wiping his tongue around the inside of his mouth for any crumb of food left, he grabbed his phone again, opened up Instagram, pressed like on whatever post he could find from his coworkers without even looking at the picture sometimes, lingered for longer on the photography accounts he followed, and smiled at the picture Minseok had posted three hours ago. He was at the gym, it was a full body shot, and he was flexing his arms like crazy. He wasn’t. It just looked like it because his body was built and his muscles were defined. _Stop flexing like crazy,_ he commented with an emoji that rolled its eyes at his best friend.

 

He got up. It was late enough to sleep now. He stepped on something on his way out of the living room. He raised his foot and looked down. He didn’t know what it was. Food. But unidentifiable. One less sock to wear. He turned around, grabbed the sock hanging on the television, and headed to the bathroom.

 

When Junmyeon crashed down on his bed, mismatched socks protecting his sensitive feet from the cold of February, he felt as exhausted as someone whose screams were desperate enough to be heard through the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"And what exactly do you do of your days, Mr. Kim?"

 

The voice lancinating through the air and whipping against his face was one he was used to hear. It didn’t make the disdain and reproach tucked in-between every syllable any easier to bear.

 

Junmyeon stood tall in front of his boss, hands joined in front of him, head tilted down, gaze lowered politely. Submissively. Not to the man he worked for. To the money that man paid him.

 

"I’m sorry, Mr. Yoo," he apologized for the third time since he had stepped into the room. 

 

The bank had opened two hours ago. Mr. Yoo had come in an hour ago. Junmyeon had waited a whole hour to bring him the bad news.

 

"You always only apologize. Uselessly. Don’t apologize, Junmyeon-ah. Act," he said, the informal, patronizing way in which he addressed Junmyeon making it so easy for him to imagine that twist in his features, the derision tracing every wrinkle on his face.

 

He wasn't old. There were employees older than him in the bank. He wasn’t the oldest. But he acted like he was. He was the oldest in experience, in position. A branch manager who did next to no management besides giving orders.

 

"If we lose one more important client, I will lower your pay," he said. Not a threat. A statement.

 

Junmyeon had nothing to do with this. It wasn’t his job to attract clients to the bank. It wasn’t his fault if clients that were hesitating between Yongha Bank and a rival bank eventually settled on the other option. 

 

He bowed, calmly pronouncing another apology, keeping his gaze on the ground as he stepped back, only straightening up and turning around after a few steps. He ignored the deprecating snort that reached his ears and quietly closed the door behind him.

 

He took a deep breath in, shoulders drooping. Stepping into that room always made his stomach feel like steel, made breathing difficult. The tension stifled him, the expectations grabbed him by the neck harshly, and the accusations tasted like expired milk. Junmyeon had tasted that a lot in his life. It never felt as repulsive as this.

 

Reaching a hand up, he adjusted his tie, loosening it a bit to take an additional deep breath in, tightening it properly again, and heading back to the main room. Before he could step out of the hallway and back into his own booth, Minyoung surged out and cut his path. Perfect ponytail, pretty eyes, concern nestled in her eyebrows. Junmyeon smiled. This was a reassuring sight.

 

"What did he say? Did he scold you a lot?" she asked, leaned close to him, voice lowered.

 

Minyoung worried about everyone when it came to Mr. Yoo. But especially about Junmyeon. Maybe that was why she was his closest colleague, maybe friend. They were tied by the endless anguish that surged up in them at the first sight of a faintly twisted expression.

 

"I had worse," Junmyeon said, not wanting to lie to her but unwilling to go on about how much he hated Yoo Dongman. She had enough on her own plate.

 

She sighed, a huff of annoyance. "Why does he blame you for that? You didn’t even get in contact with the client. It wasn’t even your client, but Jaehwan’s."

 

"I guess I’m an easy target. Maybe because I’m short?" he said, tilting his head and humming in mock pensiveness.

 

Minyoung snorted out a small laugh and he smiled at her. Success.

 

"Are you going to attend the hoesik tonight?" she asked then, lips almost pressed together even as she spoke. She hated these company dinners. Junmyeon hated them too.

 

"I won’t leave you alone," he promised her with a faux proud tone, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest. 

 

She let out a cringing sound and pushed his shoulder. But the gratefulness was still in the way she patted the same spot she pushed right after.

 

"I really don’t want to go," she sighed then.

 

"You could say you’re not feeling well and go home directly," Junmyeon suggested.

 

She shook her head. "He’ll only be extra unbearable with me next Monday," she muttered, eyes dejected but mouth lined with sourness.

 

Junmyeon sighed and then gave her a tense smile. They couldn’t avoid this, neither of them.

 

"Let’s just go back to work, we’ve been standing away from our job long enough now," he said, peeking into the main room where the waiting area’s rows of chairs were rather full.

 

Minyoung let out a quiet groan but still nodded at him energetically, ponytail swinging.

 

"Yes, boss!" she chirped, putting on her polite and hardworking persona. Her smile was teasing.

 

Junmyeon laughed heartily as he followed her back towards their booths. She never called Mr. Yoo ‘boss’. She sometimes called Junmyeon that way, sometimes joked about him working harder than the manager himself. That was pretty accurate. But Junmyeon was pretty sure everyone at the bank worked harder than the manager.

 

He sat down at his booth, gave a smile to Jaehwan whose apologetic glance was quick but very obvious before he looked back at the elderly woman sitting on the other side of his desk. Junmyeon woke his computer up and with a bright smile, he called out for the next client.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As he neared his apartment building, Junmyeon reached for the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers grasping the noxious pack inside like a lifeline. He leaned on the wall, right next to the few stairs leading to the entrance of the building, and flicked the lid open, fingers reaching for a cigarette, tucking it between his lips, and reaching inside the pack again to pull out his lighter. The flame flickered and Junmyeon dragged in a saturated breath that felt cleaner than any air he had breathed since his last cigarette.

 

He shoved the pack in his pocket and the lighter in the other pocket before closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, and reaching to pull the stick out of his mouth. He breathed out, long, stretched, the tension in his shoulders crumbling down when he tapped the ash off of his cigarette with his index finger. He took another drag, eyes opening just enough for him to see the ghost of tobacco swirling out of his own mouth when he exhaled.

 

The voice in his ears wasn’t as soothing as the act of smoking but it was good enough. A female voice, husky but clear in his earphones as it narrated a story. One of these small stories, the lyrical text that sometimes preceded a corresponding song. Flowery. Sugar-coated. Radio shows always made everything so cheesy, almost gooey. But Junmyeon still yearned for it. Listening to someone was grounding. Listening to someone who wasn’t talking to him about problems was novel at the end of every day.

 

Smoking didn’t take away his headache, only reduced it a bit. Not that Junmyeon had expected it to work. He was just tired. A day of tension followed by a night of unease always took its toll on him. He hated company dinners. He hated company dinners when the Branch Manager attended them. He always attended them. Eating, criticism, drinking, misplaced remarks, going to the karaoke, insistence, throwing an arm over female employees’ shoulders. Harassment. Disgust. Junmyeon despised it. Despised himself because he did nothing, could do nothing. 

 

The DJ went on to talk about family and its importance before announcing a song titled _Father._ Junmyeon took another drag from his cigarette. He was halfway through. He looked up at the sky. The moon looked nice today. The trees on the pathway leading to the apartment complex were shuddering under its silver touch. He took his phone out, held it up for a long time, adjusting, playing with filters, before snapping a picture of it. He looked at it with pride for a moment, smiling. He raised his phone again, this time towards the pathway, but it wasn’t empty. Someone was standing a few meters away, head tilted down, trying to light a cigarette, one hand protecting a flame that never sparked from the wind.

 

It was a relief. Had the man not been smoking, Junmyeon would’ve had to either move away or kill his cigarette to avoid disturbing him. It was rude to smoke in front of the entrance of the building, Junmyeon did it only when he was sure there was no one around. 

 

He lowered his phone and watched. A loud curse reached him right when the song in his ears died down for a beat before the climax started again. The man dropped his hand, lighter dangling at the tip of his fingers. He glanced up at Junmyeon who looked down and closed the app, cutting through an unfinished song. The man would approach him and ask for a lighter. He took his earphones out and tucked them in the pocket of his slacks along with the phone.

 

"Excuse me," came a few seconds later, while Junmyeon was browsing through his Instagram feed. He took the stick out of his mouth and looked up with a welcoming smile. A small but sheepish one was returned to him. "Could I borrow your lighter? I think mine’s dead," he said, holding up the grey lighter like a culprit.

 

"Sure," Junmyeon said, reaching inside his pocket and pulling the lighter out. The man took it with a brighter smile and a bow.

 

Junmyeon tapped the ash off his cigarette as he watched him light his own. He was wearing a big, puffy coat and only at the sight of it did Junmyeon notice that he had forgotten his at the office. He wasn’t that cold though, the rest of his body wasn’t as sensitive to the cold as his feet were and he still had his blazer on. This stranger was wearing ripped jeans. Maybe his knees weren’t as sensitive as the rest of his body.

 

He closed his eyes when he took the first drag and blew the smoke out, turning his head away from Junmyeon. Not everyone did that. Not every smoker was this careful when with another smoker. Especially Mr. Yoo. He always blew the smoke right into the face of whoever he was talking to.

 

He gave the lighter back with another grateful nod and Junmyeon expected him to leave then, but he didn’t. He stayed there, two steps away from Junmyeon. 

 

"You’re living in apartment 103, right?" he said out of the blue. Not sudden in tone, but sudden in occurrence. The only strangers Junmyeon talked to were clients at the bank. He took a drag and smoked out his next words. "I saw you getting in and out of it a few times."

 

"Yeah, I do," Junmyeon nodded. It was short. This stranger was making the effort to talk to him. He should say more. He didn’t know what to say.

 

"Oh," the man said. Junmyeon caught him flicking the ash off his cigarette. He did it with two taps of his thumb nail against the underside of the filtered end, unlike Junmyeon. "We’re neighbors."

 

"Oh," Junmyeon echoed in a much slower tone, realization not apparent in his voice. This was surprising. This was the man whose wife always screamed at him, who had never screamed back at her until a week ago. Junmyeon had expected someone else, for some reason. Someone older, who looked grumpier, more worn out. Not someone with a friendly face and an easy smile, who wore ripped jeans and a bright red coat. He took a drag. "You moved in a month ago, right?" he asked because it felt like the right thing to say.

 

His neighbor nodded, blowing out smoke and then the condensation of his words. 

 

"We moved in for a change of scenery, maybe a change of mood. My wife and I." No wince, no groan, no twitch of his eyebrows. But not an enamored, silly smile either. He frowned then, the wind patting his hair down before sleeking black strands away from his forehead again. "The walls are really thin here though, aren’t they?"

 

Junmyeon took the last drag of his cigarette. "They are," he agreed, pushing himself away from the wall. He stepped to the trash can on his right and crushed the remnant of his cigarette against the plate on top made for that purpose before throwing it in. He looked at his neighbor and bowed slightly. "Goodnight," he wished him.

 

The man returned it with a nod of his head and a smile. "Thanks again for the lighter."

 

Junmyeon shook his head politely and turned around to press the code of the entrance door. It opened and he stepped in, walking for a bit and then taking a left turn towards apartment 103. The door to apartment 104 was a few steps away, on the right. The arguing couple. Another code and Junmyeon was home, the melody of the security system unlocking being the only sound greeting him. He was grateful for that chirpy sound, sometimes.

 

He stepped on a textbook on his way to the couch. He looked down. That was a textbook back from college. He hadn’t used it in almost a decade. Not a decade. Eight years. Seven. Ten. He didn’t remember. He didn’t know what that book was doing on the floor of his living room. He ignored it, dodging the half full pack of chips a few centimeters away from it too, and crashed on his couch. It was late. He took his tie off and left it somewhere next to him. He needed to clean his house. He grabbed his laptop from where it laid on the other end of the couch. 

 

He looked through his mails for a bit, a quick glance, replied to one from a partner at the Gangnam branch of Yongha Bank, and scrolled through the ten other mails he had gotten from clients. He didn’t open them, just looked at the names and the subjects. He’d open them tomorrow. He was a little hungry. He hadn’t eaten much. He stood up, grabbed that pack of chips from the floor, looked inside. When had he opened this? Three days ago, maybe two. It didn’t look bad. He grabbed a chips and ate it. It was bland, stale. He dunked the pack on the table, right on top of the pile of tissues.

 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he unplugged the earphones and looked at the black screen. He should call his mom. They hadn’t talked in a whole month, maybe more. For no particular reason. He should call. He didn’t feel like it today. Tomorrow. He’d call her tomorrow. It would be Saturday. He’d have plenty of time to call her tomorrow.

 

The first scream came right when he put the phone down on the couch. Female. The wife. His neighbor’s wife. He stayed there and listened. He should shower. There was no one to motivate him to shower. Tomorrow. That too, tomorrow. It grew in volume. This time, she was screaming about television, the volume of it, too loud for her. Sometimes, Junmyeon heard whatever they were watching, when the volume was too high. Another muted yell. Male. The man from earlier, with the dead lighter. It was difficult to associate all these arguments and screams to that man. 

 

It was short tonight. It stopped quickly, abruptly. It felt unfinished. Silence pried them away from each other.

 

Junmyeon grabbed the remote and watched television alone. He turned the volume up and lowered it. Turned it up and lowered it. He had no one to argue about it with. It wasn’t a relief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon was glad he had Minseok in his life. When Minseok woke him up on a Saturday morning by incessantly jamming his finger against the doorbell, Junmyeon questioned whether he was actually glad or not.

 

Groaning, he kicked his blanket away and pulled himself out of bed. The floor was cold under his foot, he had lost one sock through the night. He raised a hand to scratch at his neck and then trailed it down to scratch at his ass. He stood in front of the door, hand on the handle, mind numbed with sleep. The doorbell screeched again and startled him out of his drowsiness.

 

Minseok’s smile was disproportionate to the hour of the day when Junmyeon opened the door. He stood there, staring at his best friend innocently, foolishly blinking eyes. Then, he silently turned around, leaving the door open as he headed back to the bedroom. He crashed face first on the mattress and groaned in stead of the bed springs.

 

Minseok’s very loud and repetitive groans reached Junmyeon from all around the house for a few minutes during which he couldn’t go back to sleep but couldn’t move out of bed either. He had slept a lot. He wanted to sleep more. Running water, the rustle of plastic bags, more groans and complaints. Then, Minseok’s voice.

 

"You’re really the only one for whom I’d sacrifice myself by stepping into such a pigsty place."

 

The bed dipped and Junmyeon turned his head, mushing his cheek against the pillow and opening his eyes to look at Minseok’s accusing, halfhearted stare. He reached with a hand to pat his thigh.

 

"I’m so lucky to have you," he said, the goo in his tone covering the gratefulness, but not erasing it. "Thanks for cleaning."

 

Sometimes, he felt guilty. Three out of the five times his apartment got cleaned was done by Minseok. Then, he remembered Minseok relieved stress by cleaning and then decided that maybe Minseok should thank him too.

 

He reached to pat Junmyeon’s ass. "You’re welcome. Your sweatpants are stained. You better do laundry soon."

 

"What time is it?" Junmyeon asked, closing his eyes. 

 

"It’s a little past ten," Minseok answered, then the bed dipped closer to Junmyeon and an assertive hand landed on his shoulder. It was _that_ touch. The one that preceded the words Junmyeon knew he would hear. "The weather is nice today, we should go out."

 

There it was. Junmyeon opened his eyes to Minseok’s convincing smile. Partly because he was an originally convincing person, partly because his smile was strained with a threat. One Junmyeon was used to. One that didn’t scare him the slightest bit. He reached for the phone on his bedside table, unlocked it, got into his weather app, and showed the very obvious 3°C on the screen to Minseok.

 

"No, it’s not."

 

Minseok gave him a look and grabbed the phone from him.

 

"If it’s not snowing, then the weather is nice enough," he argued, voice slipping into that slightly whiny tone he had whenever Junmyeon refused to get out of his house during his weekends. "Come on. I miss you. We didn’t do anything together in so long. We don’t hang out as much as best friends are supposed to."

 

"Is there a Best Friend Date quota we have to follow?" Junmyeon replied, more to tease Minseok than to actually protest.

 

It worked. Minseok knitted his eyebrows and let out an upset sound. Junmyeon snorted. 

 

He was right. They really didn’t see each other a lot. They didn’t even message or call each other a lot either. They were both busy, Junmyeon with the bank and Minseok with his job at the gym, his days usually full and his free days most of the time landing on Junmyeon’s work days. But it didn’t really matter. They didn’t need to be talking every day to remain the best of friends. That was what Junmyeon liked about their friendship. It helped a lot, especially when he was too tired of human contact come the weekend to actually go out and meet people. Not that he had anyone but Minseok to meet anyway.

 

"We can hang out here," Junmyeon tried, last word stretched in laughter when Minseok kept silently looking at him, switching between an imploring look and an accusing one.

 

"Nope," Minseok shot him down and Junmyeon only had the time to groan once before he started pulling on his hand as he stood up, consequently dragging Junmyeon into a sitting position. "I’m meeting up with colleagues from the gym later. Do you want to come?"

 

Junmyeon let him pull him out of bed and up to his feet. "I don’t like strangers," he said when Minseok gave him a triumphant smile.

 

"I knew you’d say that," he said as he walked to Junmyeon’s closet and let out a loud _ew_ at the mess inside. It wasn’t even exaggerated. He grabbed Junmyeon’s favorite sweater and threw it at him along with a pair of jeans.

 

So that was where this sweater was. He hadn’t seen it in a month. Junmyeon was very lucky to have a friend who magically cleaned his house and found his fugitive clothes. No wonder Minseok looked like a fairy sometimes.

 

"Then why did you ask?" Junmyeon huffed as he pulled his shirt off to replace it with the sweater.

 

Minseok looked up from where he was collecting clothes from the floor. "Because I love you," he answered, stretching out his last word as his magical fingers folded slacks to perfection. Then he leaned down to grab boxers from the floor with the tip of his thumb and index finger. "This goes in the laundry pile," he winced, before dumping it back on the floor, on top of another pair of ketchup-stained sweatpants.

 

Junmyeon simpered as he threw his pants on the laundry pile. It felt nice to hear that from time to time. It was easy to forget that even a tiny amount of people loved him in this gargantuan world. Tiny, but not to him. To him, it was a huge amount of people. 

 

"Where do you wanna go?" he asked as he pulled his jeans on and started looking for his sock under his blanket.

 

"We could go bowling!" Minseok chirped as he slid the door of the closet shut.

 

Of course Minseok would want to do something fancy. He didn’t mind. Minseok made everything pleasant and easy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Junmyeon stepped back into his apartment building, it was with the knowledge that both Minseok and he sucked at bowling. It was alright. They had laughed until their stomach hurt. It had been refreshing, a bit healing, and he was humming a catchy tune from the radio as he reached inside his pocket for the keys to the mailbox. All he needed for this blooming afternoon to be perfect was a cigarette. He’d smoke it at home.

 

He stood in front of the rows of mailboxes and fiddled to look for the right key. When he unlocked the box and pulled it open, there was a thin pile of envelopes. He hadn’t checked all week. He grabbed them one by one to look at their provenance. When he reached the third letter and stared at it for a moment to try and figure out where it could be from, noisy footsteps pulled his attention away. He looked at his right and his neighbor was approaching, his slippers dragging on the floor. It was the failed marriage neighbor. 

 

They nodded at each other as greeting, the man’s smile probably wider than Junmyeon’s. His cheeks were round. Not even in a way that indicated that he ate too much, the rest of his body was rather lean. Smiles just seemed to gather his cheeks into merry bundles. Junmyeon looked back at his mail as the man stepped to stand on his right and opened his own mailbox.

 

"Aha," Junmyeon heard the next moment. A perky sound. Junmyeon looked at the man. Still smiling. Maybe the sound had bounced on his cheeks and then flew around. Maybe that was how he managed to sound so happy. 

 

Junmyeon wondered how he could look so cheerful after so many fights with his wife. Their eyes met. Junmyeon had the urge to look away, only then noticing that he had been staring, but that would be weird. So he kept looking at him. 

 

"Sorry," he laughed, sheepish as he reached a hand inside and retrieved an envelope. "I can never figure out when exactly the mailman comes. When I come in at 11am there’s nothing but at 3pm there is. Sometimes at 12pm there’s nothing but at 2pm there is. It’s a little different from my old house. The mailman used to come at 11am sharp."

 

Junmyeon stared at him as he spoke with such casualness, hand waving in front of him to illustrate his words. Junmyeon could almost see the energy fluttering in the air, around his fingers. They were nice fingers. Smooth, long. A mole on his thumb. An unusual detail. They looked like nice fingers to hold. He wondered why his wife screamed at him so much when she had such beautiful fingers to hold. He wondered if his wife’s hands were as beautiful as his. He couldn’t help but think that they both took each other’s hands for granted.

 

But beyond that, this man was an amazing man. He had managed to speak so long about such a trivial topic. When did the mailman come. Junmyeon felt astonished at the fact that he could talk about that insignificant topic for so long with a stranger. Junmyeon could never.

 

"He comes in a little before 1pm," he said when the man had already locked the small beige box already. "If you check at 1pm sharp, mail will be there."

 

"Oh, thank you," the man said, holding the letter against his chest. A hug. Maybe Junmyeon should’ve stolen one more hug from Minseok. "I’ll keep that in mind."

 

He shook his head with a smile, locking up his own mailbox. "Have a nice day," he wished the man, adding a little bow to it. 

 

It was returned, the man’s cheeks jumping into a smile.

 

Junmyeon turned around and went back into his apartment, a door closing only seconds after he closed his own. His apartment was cleaned up. Nothing on the floor, the low table bare. Minseok had made him clean more before they had left this morning. He had scolded Junmyeon the entire time they had spent washing the pile of dishes that had been gathering in the sink for days.

 

He sprawled down on the couch and sighed in content, taking his phone out of his pocket. He turned the radio on a random channel. He put the device on his stomach and closed his eyes. He should do his laundry. He should call his mom. But he hadn’t called her in a month and the guilt was piling up on his chest like dirty, stained, and crusty plates. He didn’t know how to get it off himself without breaking anything. 

 

If he called her now, she’d sound sad. Because he hadn’t called, hadn’t visited in a whole month despite his parents’ house being closer to him than the other side of the city. She’d ask why. There was no reason. There was really no reason why he didn’t call. No reason at all. That was the worst thing about it. He didn’t want to face the sadness and the disappointment. Not today. The phone vibrated on his chest a little bit with the loud bass of the song playing on the radio.

 

Tomorrow. He’d call tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon woke up to a muffled argument. It usually never happened after he fell asleep. He stretched his arms over his head, knuckles bumping against the wall. It wasn’t heard, she screamed at the same time. He grabbed his phone. 2am.

 

Maybe he should tell them to tone it down. Maybe he should tell them that he could hear them. Call the police. Pound on their door. Barge in and join in the screaming.

 

He didn’t. Junmyeon lay there and listened, pulling his blanket up over his mouth. Not up to his ears. He wanted to hear. His apartment was too quiet at night. Living on the ground floor, he could hear anyone who walked under his window and talked. If he strained his ears at night, he could only hear the whisper of cars on the road closest to the apartment. 

 

Most of the time, this place didn’t feel like his home. Silence had a more imposing presence inside, occupied more space than Junmyeon’s body did. This felt like help. The screams. A comfort. He wasn’t alone. It was easy to forget that, sometimes.

 

 _"Can you calm the fuck down,"_ he heard, a whisper through the wall. Wrong. Never ask someone to calm down when they’re angry.

 

He wondered what this argument was about. It never was about anything big, from what Junmyeon heard. Clothes, shows, doors, even food sometimes. She screamed. Parents. This one was about parents. He hadn’t called her mom in a long while. Junmyeon shifted to lie on his side. Right. Marrying someone meant marrying their family.

 

 _"When was the last time_ you _called my mom?"_ he threw back. Loud. More muffled words, not any Junmyeon could catch. Something scraped. Maybe a chair on the floor. Or a table. " _This is bullshit."_

 

Maybe instead of asking when was the last time they called, it would be better to ask why they didn’t call each other’s parents. More muffled arguments and then, silence. It felt wrong after so much noise. Junmyeon sighed. These arguments were stressing him out. There was no solution to give. No ears willing to listen to his solutions. He needed a cigarette.

 

He threw his blanket away and got up, heading to the living room. He grabbed a newly opened pack of Marlboros and pulled a stick out, grabbing his lighter, snapping a flame, and taking a drag. He sighed the smoke out and took another drag, enjoying the heavy air slithering down his throat as the tension in his body unraveled, head unclogging a little. He leaned to grab the ashtray on the table, already full with a few orange, tiny, deadly corpses. He turned idle, bent, when he heard someone cursing loudly outside. He looked towards his balcony. Another curse, this one harsher, not in content since it was an identical one - it sounded more hateful, angry.

 

Junmyeon finally grabbed the blue, glass ashtray and straightened up again. His neighbor’s voice. He must’ve gotten out for some fresh air after the argument. He sounded nice cursing. Junmyeon didn’t hear people cursing often, everyone at work was so formal and polite, even Minseok didn’t like cursing. The last filthy use of language he had heard was in the porn he had watched last week. Amateur porn. It sounded realer, both the moans and the cursing.

 

He flicked the cigarette, dusting ash into the tray. A gift from Minseok after Junmyeon had broken his last one and had been using an empty yogurt pot for a month straight. He had given Junmyeon the nastiest look ever and had came back the next day with a set of three ashtrays, blue, pink, and green. Junmyeon’s nose prickled a little when he took a long drag. Another curse attracted him towards the balcony door. He slid it open and stepped out, taking another drag as soon as the night’s cold greeted him. 

 

Junmyeon didn’t usually smoke on the balcony during winter nights. It was way too cold, even while smoking. Not that smoking warmed him up any other day. He didn’t know why he had decided to do it tonight. Maybe it was his neighbor’s bouncy smile. Bouncy smile. That sounded ridiculous. But fitting.

 

Though, when Junmyeon saw him, standing only a short distance away, his cheeks didn’t look bouncy with a smile like they had earlier in the corridor. He was snapping his thumb over and over again on his lighter. It wasn’t working. He looked up then, half of his face concealed by his hand as he tried protecting a nonexistent flame from the wind again. He dropped his hands, cigarette pushing a corner of his mouth up. Or maybe it was half of a smile. He couldn’t see, it was too dark.

 

But what pushed the guy to walk towards Junmyeon was obvious. He held his lighter out.

 

"I wouldn’t be surprised if you heard me cursing and came to rescue me. I really thought I was gonna cry," he snorted when he was standing in front of the balcony. Not really under, Junmyeon’s balcony was barely a meter and a half above ground.

 

He wasn’t sure whether he would be crying because his lighter didn’t work or because he had yet another fight with the person he had married, but Junmyeon still dropped the lighter into his neighbor’s cupped hands.

 

"Why?" he asked, only realizing that what he was asking was very vague _after_ he had spoken.

 

It didn’t seem to throw the man off, however. He lit his cigarette up. Closing his eyes on the first drag seemed to be a habit of his. Or maybe it happened only when he was stressed. That happened to Junmyeon only when he was stressed.

 

"I don’t know. You look very kind, polite. Helpful." He reached up with the lighter and Junmyeon crouched down to catch it between the bars of the rail, leaving a grey ghost where their fingers grazed before standing up again. They took a fill at the same time. "Also, I know you can hear pretty much anyone who speaks if they’re remotely close to one of your windows," he said, voice muffled by the smoke he kept in and blew out a second later.

 

"You get used to it after a while," Junmyeon shrugged, leaning an arm on the railing and dusting ash off into the tray. "You don’t even hear it anymore."

 

He should say more. He wanted to say more. He looked at his neighbor, watched the ring of red at the tip of his cigarette. It wasn’t everyday he spoke with a stranger. Junmyeon had liked the fact that he could communicate with a stranger outside of work, the last two times they spoke. But it was more difficult than he had thought. Maybe he couldn’t, after all. He looked around, at the rustling trees in the big backyard of their apartment complex, a small park surrounded by three buildings, a lot of grass, small paths, and benches scattered around. He didn’t know what to say to someone who wasn’t from the bank and probably knew nothing about loans and statistics concerning the country’s economy.

 

"You must’ve heard a lot of weird things," the man said then, easily picking up the conversation after a short moment spent smoking in silence. A thumb against the butt of his cigarette. If Junmyeon had turned the light of his living room on, he would be seeing his face better. Next time. "How long have you been living here?" he asked, gesturing around himself.

 

"It’s been around ten years," Junmyeon answered after a hum.

 

"Ten year is a long time to hear strangers conversing under your window," he laughed. Same question as a moment ago - different formulation and no question mark.

 

Junmyeon huffed a laugh out at the words he hadn’t pronounced yet. "I sometimes hear children exchanging bags of chips like they’re dealing drugs." All secretive and suspicious of each other, unwilling to exchange a bag for one of a lesser flavor.

 

The man laughed, billowy, twirly. Fitting.

 

"I want to eat chips now," he sighed then, tone hinting at a frown or a twisted mouth, perhaps.

 

"There’s a convenience store not far from here. If you take a right turn after getting out of the complex, it’s just down the street," he explained, the hand that carried his ashtray gesturing to his own right.

 

"Ah. Thank you," he said, tone light as the silver flakes he dusted on the grass. "I haven’t had the occasion to visit the neighborhood yet. Been too busy with work and the move and other stuff." A crumbling marriage, maybe.

 

Junmyeon didn’t say it. He said nothing. Perhaps he could ask him what was his job, pick up the occasion given to him. He didn’t. He was tired of asking people what their job was, their main source of income, if they would like a separate account for their savings. 

 

Instead, they fell to silence. Junmyeon crushed the fag end of his cigarette into the ashtray. Another corpse, one of a minute of his life. Or an hour. Or was it a day? Fifteen minutes? He didn’t remember how much one stick of tobacco took away from one’s life. It didn’t really matter. Junmyeon knew it took from his life. And that didn’t keep him from enjoying every single drag.

 

"I heard you listening to the radio earlier," the man suddenly said and it would’ve been creepy if Junmyeon didn’t occasionally hear the soundtrack of the dramas they were watching on the other side of the wall.

 

"Yeah," he said, shivering when the wind blew. Maybe smoking did help warm his body up, after all. "I like doing that." Lame. Very lame. He didn’t know what to say.

 

"From Monday to Friday, if you tune in to Angpan Radio, there’s a really nice show that starts at 4pm." A last drag, red ring close to his fingertips now. "Give it a try."

 

"I will," he answered to the unexpected but pleasant information given to him. When the man looked down at the remains of his cigarette, Junmyeon leaned down over the rail, getting on the tip of his toes and stretching his arm down to hand him his ashtray.

 

"Indeed, very helpful," he said as he took it with a nod of his head and a voice that sounded amused. Or teasing. Junmyeon didn’t know the nuances of his voice. He watched him crush the butt of his cigarette amongst others. 

 

"Someone might be spying on us, waiting for you to drop the end to the ground so they can report you and gain pocket money out of it," he shrugged, only half joking.  

 

"A true rescue man," he laughed, holding onto the tray. "Oh, what’s your name?"

 

"Kim Junmyeon. You?" he returned.

 

"Byun Baekhyun." A bouncy name. Like the two beats of a song. "Actually, I saw your name on the mailbox so I already knew but I didn’t know if you looked at mine," he admitted, his laugh puffing up Junmyeon’s chest with an airy one of his own. "But I still thought we should introduce ourselves properly. And well. Thank you for the comfort, Rescue Man Kim Junmyeon."

 

He raised the ashtray up and Junmyeon leaned down to take it, a strain in his arm as he stretched. Baekhyun said nothing else then, bidding him goodnight and walking to the left, heading back towards the entrance of the building, or so Junmyeon figured. 

 

He didn’t return his goodnight. He was too busy wondering what kind of comfort _he_ could give to this man. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sundays were for laundry. Or at least, Junmyeon thought that was the case for every other person who worked throughout the entire week. For him, laundry on a Sunday happened once every two weeks, sometimes three. Sometimes, laundry didn’t happen on a Sunday but on whichever day he find out that he had no more clean-looking shirt to wear to work.

 

He wasn’t living a good life. At least, up to his mother’s standards, and many other people’s probably. He already had two take out boxes on the floor. He had taken them off the table earlier and the kitchen had just felt too far to him. When he had gotten to the kitchen for a glass of water, he had forgotten to take them with him to the trash bin. He had felt very messy, very much like a hopeless case, and like he would probably die in his own mess one day. Especially if he always ate mildly healthy food. On his way back to the living room, he had grabbed one of the  — non-rotten — tomatoes from his fridge and bit into it like an apple. Eating one vegetable might save his life, he could try.

 

He wiped his hands on a tissue once he was done, then his mouth, and his hands again. He dumped the tissue at the other end of the table, trying to keep it as far as possible. Then, he pulled to him the reason behind his sudden wanting the table to be clean. He opened up the sketchbook and smiled at the small, cute character that greeted him on the first page. It was a chibi of his favorite character from One Piece, Zoro, frowning as he pointed a finger at him. _Don’t forget to draw as much as you want,_ were the words Junmyeon himself had written in the small bubble above his head. He turned the pages and rediscovered the drawings he hadn’t seen since last month.

 

As he finally reached a blank page, Junmyeon stopped and sighed. No boredom, dissatisfaction, or disappointment was carried in the air he breathed out. Contentment. He thought he should go out like everyone else did on a Sunday, take a stroll, go to the park a few streets away, take pictures of everything he liked, meet people and talk and laugh. That was what everyone did. 

 

That was a lie. He knew not everyone went out on Sundays. A lot of people just stayed at home, like him. He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t know what to draw. He grabbed his pencil and pursed his lips, humming under his breath as he stared at the vast of white on the page. He wanted to draw himself but he didn’t know how to. He needed special features to emphasize when drawing chibis. He didn’t really have any. He had an ordinary face. Ordinary life. Ordinary everything. He was ordinary.

 

He held the pencil between his pointer and middle finger, wiggling it and tapping its rubbered end against the page. He heard the neighbor’s kid screaming. Not Baekhyun. He didn’t have any child. Fortunately.

 

It came from outside, his balcony door was open and his left neighbor’s window probably was too. That kid screamed a lot.

 

Junmyeon drew him, with a missing tooth and a lone bunny one peeking from his grin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he got to work on Monday morning, everyone was gathered behind Jaehwan’s computer. He quickly left his bag on his desk and joined them, looking at Minyoung’s worried expression.

 

"What is it?" he asked, anticipating the answer and hoping that she didn’t know it yet.

 

"We’re loading the page," Mr. Cho replied in her stead, standing on her left.

 

"Hopefully we didn’t drop," someone said from the little crowd and Junmyeon didn’t see her but it was easy to recognize Saehee’s voice.

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, teeth worrying his lower lip, Junmyeon drifted his gaze to the screen like everyone else, watching as Jaehwan clicked around. They shouldn’t drop. If they dropped in the weekly branch ranking, this place would turn to hell. Heller than it already was. Why was there even a weekly ranking? Couldn’t they just have a monthly one like some banks did? 

 

The page suddenly opened into the ranking and everyone collectively leaned closer. Then, the voice of disappointment arose, weaving together almost every individual’s groan in the room. Junmyeon remained silent and straightened his back, still staring at their spot in the ranking.

 

"Fourth," Jaehwan wailed, holding his head in his hands. "We dropped one rank."

 

"We’re out of the Top 3," Minyoung muttered, voice small, stature even smaller as she looked down.

 

Junmyeon parted his lips, readying words of reassurance and optimism, but when he heard a door slam from the hallway, he pressed his lips together, as tight as his shoulders suddenly felt. Minyoung jumped from next to him and everyone froze.

 

"Meeting room," Mr. Yoo announced as he walked into the main room, voice cracking in the air like the snap of a dried twig. But much stronger. Much more dangerous and unpleasant. "Now."

 

Junmyeon hadn’t raised his gaze up to look at him but it wasn’t difficult to imagine the fury pulling his eyebrows into an unpleasant frown, his gritted teeth showing as he hissed through them. Everyone glanced at each other, Junmyeon tried meeting everyone’s eyes, shaking his head in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture. He knew it wasn’t.

 

The meeting room was a bit too small for the bank, not everyone could sit at the table and the youngest, less experienced or less important employees stood next to the table rather than sitting at it. Mr. Yoo was at the head of it, Junmyeon sitting a few seats away on his right. Not enough seats away.

 

He glanced at the Vice Manager, meeting his gaze. He gave Junmyeon a very faint smile that did nothing to ease him out. Mr. Kim usually rarely attended these meetings, whatever they talked about around this table was often already conversed between him and the Manager beforehand.

 

"What exactly do you think your job is here?" Mr. Yoo finally spoke after a long minute of asphyxiating silence. 

 

Everyone stayed silent. This wasn’t a question for them to answer. Junmyeon joined his hands together on his lap, his grip around his fingers strong, gaze resting on the table like it was expected to be. 

 

"Losing clients?" the man said again, voice growing a bit louder now, harsher, the strike of words against bare skin rougher. "Dropping our rates? Making our bank lose money? Sitting around all day rearranging your desk? What is it?"

 

Junmyeon felt Jeha startling next to him when Mr. Yoo yelled his last question out. Wrong move. Junmyeon’s thumb nail dug into the back of his other hand. He hated this.

 

"Lee Jeha, are you too busy dating to do your work?"

 

Mockery. Condescendence. Humiliation. Junmyeon felt it all crawl on his skin. It wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at one of the most hardworking women in the company, one who only recently got to find happiness again with the boyfriend she had broken up with three months ago. She didn’t deserve this. None of the employees deserved this.

 

"I’m sorry, Mr. Kim," Jeha said, voice firm. Tight.

 

A snort was Mr. Yoo’s answer. Junmyeon said nothing. He wanted to. He wanted to so bad. But he said nothing. The silence in the room was closing in on him. He wanted to loosen his tie. He didn’t. 

 

"And you, Kim Junmyeon," Mr. Yoo suddenly called out. Not surprising. He always called out to Junmyeon. And no matter how many times it had happened before, Junmyeon still hated the way he haughtily used his full name to address him. "What do you exactly do for our company?" 

 

A lot of things. Taking care of the difficult clients as soon as they gave anyone else trouble. Giving advice on a professional and personal level alike to every other employee. Junmyeon knew his personal performance had never decreased in any way.

 

"What do you do?" he repeated, each of his word accompanied by a strong tap of his fingers against the table. Junmyeon still didn’t look at him. It would worsen things. "You’re too mushy. Like goo. You do nothing."

 

Junmyeon swallowed. Once, twice. His hands were sweating, he wanted to wipe them on his slacks. He didn’t. He tightened his grip on his own fingers and lowered his head even more.

 

"I’m sorry Mr. Yoo. I’ll work harder," he said, poised, steady.

 

"You will all work hard," Mr. Yoo snorted, an ugly sound. "If not, I will disperse you all to different branches at the other side of the country and get myself a new set of better employees. You’re all replaceable. Money isn’t."

 

With the cacophony of a chair scraping against the floor, the Manager got up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Jeha jumped on her chair again. Silence for a few easier breaths and then, a collective but muted groan.

 

"Seriously. He’s the devil. That’s what people mean when they say the devil loves money," Woosung hissed behind Junmyeon, where he was standing. A lot of agreeing groans and sighs.

 

"Why does he always blame you for everything," Minyoung said, frowning at him but not _at_ him. She always frowned whenever she talked about the boss.

 

"Who knows," Junmyeon said, finally prying his fingers off each other and looking up. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, more of a gesture of congratulations for surviving through the meeting than anything else.

 

"I’m sorry, it’s because he can’t say anything to me," the Vice Manager suddenly sighed out and everyone looked at him. Not really in alarm. They were used to complaining this way even when Mr. Kim was around. He was safe. "He’s always overly kind to me. My uncle is his senior so he’s too scared to say anything to me, in case I’ll go and complain to him. He takes it out on Junmyeon. Since you’ve been working here the longest," he said, addressing Junmyeon directly with a sympathetic smile.

 

Junmyeon sighed but straightened his shoulders and tucked the corners of his lips up into a bland smile.

 

"It’s alright. We’re all used to it, aren’t we?" he said, looking at everyone and even turning around to look at the employees standing behind him.

 

He earned a smile from Seungwan, their intern, and it made the anger and the revolt broiling in his chest just a little easier to swallow down.

 

"We’re used to it," Minyoung said, hands going up to tighten her ponytail. "That’s the worst thing about it."

 

And she was right. That really was the worst thing about it. But this wasn’t anything abnormal. This kind of situation was usual in a lot of companies. Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Consequently, they all had to work overtime and it was 6pm by the time Junmyeon put on his coat, grabbed his bag, bid everyone a good evening, and got out of the bank.

 

There was no seat available in the subway, he had let a pregnant woman settle on the only one he had localized and he was standing instead, holding onto the handles to keep balance as the train surged forward. Through the journey, he replied to a message Minseok sent him, scrolled through his instagram feed, looking at the photography accounts he followed with wonder, and rushing to tap twice on every single one of their new posts. After a while, he had nothing to do.

 

It wasn’t silent in the train, it never really was. Junmyeon quickly got bored of listening to the conversation of two elderly women, and looked at his phone again. He got his earphones out of his inner pocket, and plugged them in, thumb tapping on the screen until he found his radio application. His thumb hovered on the channel frequency. Then, he tapped again, switching channels and looking at the name of each of them. It took a while for him to find Angpan Radio, Junmyeon rarely changed channels and kept listening to the same three, switching up whenever he didn’t like the song.

 

This song, though, kept his gaze on the channel for a few seconds as he attentively listened. He turned the volume up a bit, locked his phone, shoved it in the pocket of his slacks, and kept his hand there. His gaze found his own reflection on the glass doors of the train. It was a nice song, with a strong beat that wasn’t overbearing or fast. It was a band kind of song. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but the sound, the melody, even the voice, it didn’t feel like a pre-made track layered with a voice singing over it. It felt complete, weaved together, haunting when a second voice, female, joined in at the climax of the song, a single voice as strong as an entire church choir.

 

It was a nice song, calmative, agreeable. The kind of song that would make the audience of a concert emotional. The kind that sounded the best when listened to with closed eyes, a small smile, and a light sway of the body.

 

He wondered what the title was. Could be _Still You Want Me._ Or _Next to Me_. These words were repeated quite a few times. A foreign band. He didn’t really know that many of them, maybe two. Soon, the song petered out, and Junmyeon was left to stare into his own reflection again, his eyes opening. The subway felt slow today, not a rush but a cradle. Not silence. There was the signature whoosh of a car in Junmyeon’s ears, the wind, distant voices greeting each other. That was when the narration started. The subway stopped, his earphones honked like a car. Junmyeon got out of the train, tightened his coat by holding the two lapels closer together instead of zipping it up, and heard the clicking of heels on the ground.

 

He started walking towards his apartment complex and the sounds were muted in his ears. A second of silence. And then-

 

"You’ve done it." A deep voice, a whisper into his ears. It wasn’t a whisper, the tone just felt intimate. Felt like a pat on his back. "You’ve worked hard." A shudder. Baekhyun’s voice, Junmyeon realized. 

 

He slowed down as he walked, for a fleeting moment, and then raised up the pace. 

 

"Are you turning off the lights of your office?" Baekhyun asked. 

 

Not to Junmyeon. To his audience. It felt like Junmyeon was his only audience. Like those words were pronounced for his ears only. He stopped at an intersection, standing behind a small crowd, a jittery child, a woman looking down, heels high, nose buried in her scarf, a hunched man gazing at his phone. The red light. Cars drove by, once, twice, thrice, a rush of air, a nice background to the voice in his earphones. It sounded smiley. Bouncing off in his head, enlivening Junmyeon’s craving for a cigarette. He didn’t grab one. Junmyeon stood there and listened.

 

"Did you wish everyone a good evening? Did everyone wish you a good evening back? Are you already on the subway? In your car? Walking back home? Was it a busy day? A hard one? It must’ve been tiring." A sigh. Contentment, relief. A sigh that sounded as curved as the lips that blew it out. Junmyeon took a deep breath in. Easy. "Have you eaten yet? Wouldn’t it be nice if someone was there to massage your shoulders?"

 

Everyone started walking and Junmyeon was the last one to follow, noticing that the light had turned green a beat too late. It would be. It would be. He avoided people coming in from the opposite direction. Everyone walked straight forward.

 

"You would deserve it. A nice massage. A warm cup of coffee. Or maybe tea. You need to go to sleep early, after all. Tomorrow will be a new day. Another day of waking up, going to work, tiring yourself out, achieving things. Small things." A laugh. Airy, a murmur. It was his first time hearing it and yet, Junmyeon felt the familiarity it carried. He felt it in the twitch of his lips upwards. "Small achievements are still achievements. Like waking up. Going to work on time. Eating breakfast when you’re alone in the house. Not missing the bus."

 

A cold breeze ruffled his hair. Junmyeon could only feel the effulgent voice in his ears, in his head. All over his body. In the quiescence, in the serenity.

 

"You’ve achieved a lot today. It was difficult but you did. It’s the end of the day and you made it. When you reach home, close your eyes and breathe. Eat your favorite meal. Watch your favorite show. Do something for yourself. You deserve it. Today too, you’ve worked hard."

 

You’ve worked hard.

 

Junmyeon hadn’t heard that in a long time. He heard it everyday, everyone said it to everyone at the end of a workday. But it was a habit, politeness. This, this warm voice, these words, they sounded sincere. 

 

"Thank you for your efforts," Baekhyun continued. Junmyeon couldn’t really imagine his face as he said it. It didn’t make the path to his home any less pleasant. For the first time. "I’m proud of you. Tomorrow too, you can do it. Tomorrow too, when we find each other again, I’ll be proud of you. Thank you for finding Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy today too. My parting gift to you will be Jonghyun’s _End of the Day_."

 

It ended in a lowered volume, a crystalline whisper. Pride. It was weird how someone could make emotions so easy to imagine through a voice alone.

 

The song began with a breath Junmyeon felt himself letting out too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Minseok and Junmyeon stayed on the phone for two hours. Only an hour of that time was spent talking to each other about anything and everything, Junmyeon doing most of the listening because he just wanted a voice to fill in his apartment, he didn’t want to talk.

 

The remaining hour was usually spent in complete silence as they both did their own thing without breaking off the call. They didn’t need to talk. Sometimes, just knowing that there was someone at the other end of the line, someone who’d hear him if he were to mutter something to himself, was enough for Junmyeon.

 

Tonight, they laughed a lot. Junmyeon told him about his neighbor’s surprise radio show. Minseok made him laugh and realize that Baekhyun had basically promoted his very own radio show to him. Before hanging up, Minseok made him promise to buy him dinner tomorrow night. They had seen each other only two days ago but Junmyeon still readily agreed and made himself a cup of tea afterwards, alternating between a sip, a drag on his cigarette, and a click on his mouse as he prepared what he was supposed to work on at the bank tomorrow. He had a meeting with one of their most important client about their trust, he needed to pick up the keys to their box in the morning.

 

The fight started at 10:16pm. This time, Junmyeon didn’t catch what it was about. He felt bad. It felt wrong. Now that he knew who Baekhyun was, knew his name, his job, had talked to him a few times, it felt too intimate, like he was intruding on something private. Which he was basically doing. This time, Junmyeon didn’t stay to listen. This time, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes, a lighter from the bunch he kept on the table, his coat, left his laptop open on the table, and then got out of the house.

 

He could still hear the screams in the hallway. He got out of the building after hearing the lock system sing to him. If he went to the back of the building, he’d still hear it through the windows. He stayed at the front, right at the entrance, where it was lit and completely silent, deserted. He pulled a cigarette out and ignited it. They probably would be done screaming at each other by the time he’d be done smoking.

 

After four drags only, the door opened and Baekhyun stormed out. He walked past him and stood a few steps away, back facing Junmyeon who watched him hold his waist and look up, shoulders rising with a loud breath and deflating again. His black hair looked silky on his nape, reaching the collar of his shirt since his head was tilted up. He was only wearing a white shirt that looked baggy on him and jeans. It was cold. Junmyeon blew smoke out and as if woken up by the smell, Baekhyun turned towards him. His smile was tightlipped, a strain on his features.

 

"I’m okay," he said and Junmyeon hadn’t even asked but he was glad to hear that. Even if he wasn’t sure it was true. He looked down, the light shining above the door yellowing and saddening his dejected expression even more. "Actually, I need a cigarette."

 

Junmyeon nodded, silently looking at him. His voice was different. It was different. So difficult to associate it to the voice from the radio show, the voice that made Junmyeon proud of himself for surviving another day. But interesting. It was interesting. Someone who had sounded so calm, so content looked like a mess now, with mussed hair, a frown, a cigarette nudged between lips. A mole above the cigarette, above his lips. A lighter that didn’t work.

 

Junmyeon held his own lighter out to him, surprising himself when he heard a quiet snort escape his mouth. Hopefully it didn’t seem rude. He wasn’t really making fun of Baekhyun’s seemingly eternal demise. It just made him want to laugh. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because this was a familiar situation now.

 

Baekhyun looked at him with a sheepish smile and stepped closer, standing in front of Junmyeon. Their fingers didn’t touch when he took the lighter, didn’t touch when he tried giving it back after the first drag that was taken with closed eyes. Because Junmyeon waved his hand in front of him in refusal.

 

"Keep it," he said, stopping to blow smoke out and relieve his voice. "I have a bunch at home." 

 

It used to be a habit to collect lighters when he was in college, after he had picked up smoking during the military. He didn’t collect them out of interest, he just needed lighters in every room of his house, the pocket of every jacket. He was thirty two, had been smoking for almost a decade, and still couldn’t predict when a lighter would stop working. He wasn’t the only one. It was reassuring.

 

Baekhyun pocketed the lighter into his jeans, took a drag, and sighed it out lengthily.

 

"Sorry," he said with a grimace. "It must be annoying. I’ve asked for your lighter in almost all occasions we talked."

 

They’d smoked together in all occasions. Junmyeon didn’t mind. He had told people at the company that he had stopped smoking, just to avoid having to join the smoking breaks and the nasty things everyone discussed about female employees amidst foul, ghastly laughter. He always smoked alone. Even smoking was lonely. With Baekhyun, it wasn’t.

 

"It’s not annoying," Junmyeon said honestly, smiling because usually Baekhyun was the smiley one but not now. Not that it was surprising. "I just want to make sure you can smoke even when I’m not here to provide the lighter."

 

That pulled a chuckle out of him. The crinkles around his eyes told Junmyeon that it wasn’t mockery. Amusement. He had cute eyes. Soft eyes, not in the gaze but in the shape.

 

"That sounds much too pleasant for something that drags me closer to death with every stick," Baekhyun said, parting his crooked smile to inhale part of said deadly stick.

 

Junmyeon shrugged and did the same. Baekhyun’s gaze was lost somewhere on Junmyeon’s feet and Junmyeon’s was attentively observing his thumb tap the butt of his cigarette. He probably wasn’t looking at Junmyeon’s shoes, wasn’t looking at anything. He closed his eyes and brought a hand up to rub over his eyes, stretching an eyebrow and then digging fingertips into a cheek. He could _actually_ dig them in. The skin was plump, looked smooth, a bit rotund. Marshmallows.

 

"I’m sorry," Baekhyun said again and Junmyeon raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. He snorted. Not amusement this time, something uglier. Sadder. "I know you can hear us. Hyeran and I. We’re too loud, aren’t we?"

 

Junmyeon would like to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he shouldn’t apologize. But he didn’t know that, couldn’t be sure that it actually wasn’t Baekhyun’s fault.

 

"It’s alright," he said, instead. He looked at Baekhyun’s cigarette. He had started after Junmyeon but was already almost done. "You must be going through a hard time."

 

He raised his eyebrows, grimaced. It looked forced.

 

"I am. We are. Both of us," he said quickly, stepping towards the receptacle on the wall, crushing his fag end, and throwing it in the small bin. He took his pack out of his pocket and reached inside for another cigarette. "We weren’t always like this. I don’t know why we’re like this."

 

Junmyeon wished he could provide a solution. But he had never experienced marriage. And his solutions might not even be wanted.

 

"I hope you’ll sort it out soon," was what he settled on. He genuinely hoped they would settle this soon. And not because he was tired of hearing them fight. Maybe Baekhyun too wanted someone to massage his shoulders at the end of the day. Maybe his wife did too. 

 

"I don’t know if we can," Baekhyun said, tone flat. No hesitation. Final. Junmyeon wondered if the fights had started earlier than when they moved in, almost two months ago now.

 

He looked away, tapped ash off. A lamppost was flickering at the exit of the parking lot, the yellow light going on and off. Junmyeon crossed an arm over his chest to keep his own warmth in, his coat rustling a bit when fabric brushed together. 

 

"Do you think ripped jeans are childish?" Baekhyun spoke again, surprising Junmyeon who expected him to remain silent in his dejection until the end of his second cigarette.

 

Junmyeon looked down. Bare knees. Baekhyun had indeed been wearing ripped jeans on all occasions he had seen him. He crushed his fag end and threw it in the receptacle. He was done smoking. Baekhyun wasn’t. Junmyeon stayed.

 

"Not really," he hummed, glancing back down at the skin peeking, saturated by the white, stretched fabric of the rip. "It’s just clothes."

 

"Right?" he said, gesturing with his hand but keeping it away from Junmyeon. He was glad. He had enough clothes burned by cigarettes. Baekhyun blew smoke out through his nose instead of his mouth. He had never seen anyone do that. It was weird. Fascinating. Illustrated the anger in his suddenly dynamic voice. "What does me wearing ripped jeans have to do anything with me being childish? Just because I’m thirty doesn’t mean I have to dress like an old man."

 

Thirty. Junmyeon had expected Baekhyun to be in his late twenties at most. He didn’t let it show.

 

Not minding Junmyeon’s silence, Baekhyun continued venting, not even looking at Junmyeon who still nodded as he listened. 

 

"She screamed at me for five minutes. I hate screaming," he huffed, stopping to throw his second cigarette in the receptacle. Junmyeon had noticed that. He also noticed that Baekhyun was quite attractive when he pulled a third cigarette out of his pack without using his hand, simply catching it between his lips and pulling before lighting it. "How did she even manage to go from me smelling like cigarettes too much to me being childish because of my _pants_. I swear, she finds a way to criticize me in everything."

 

A drag. Grey swirls. A sigh. And then, he finally looked at Junmyeon. He looked small, crushed. Maybe it was the too large shirt devouring his upper body. Maybe it was the exhaustion plastered on his features. He laughed then.

 

"Sorry." Third time. "I’m oversharing. You don’t want to hear all this."

 

Junmyeon shook his head and gave him the same reassuring smile he gave to the interns at the bank when they printed the wrong documents. 

 

"It’s okay," he said. He didn’t mind. He shoved his freezing fingers in his pockets, twisted his mouth. "I’m sorry I can’t be of any help. I’ve never experienced marriage," he said with a sheepish smile. Not really embarrassed. He just knew people of his age were mostly married or looking for someone to marry.

 

"Well, that might not be a bad thing," Baekhyun shrugged, keeping his shoulders raised for a second. Drop. Final. "Marriage really does change people, sometimes. Not in the _oh your life is done_ kind of way," he said, voice a squeak that probably imitated someone he had heard before. He sighed. Tapped ash off. Maybe he was looking for words. Sighed again. "You just change. Individually and together. Sometimes it’s for the best. Sometimes, it’s not."

 

Junmyeon hummed again. He was so bad at this. He didn’t know what to say. How could he be so bad at talking to a stranger even on their fourth time meeting?

 

"But anyway," Baekhyun suddenly perked up, waving a hand in front of him. He was smiling. Not really bouncy. Deflated. "How old are you? I told you my age but you didn’t tell me yours."

 

Right. He hadn’t. He hadn’t known whether he should say it or not when Baekhyun had told him his since he hadn’t really asked Junmyeon to.

 

"I’m thirty two," he said, gaze flitting to the parking lot when a car drove in and looked for a spot.

 

"Oh, then I can call you hyung, right, hyung?" Baekhyun asked. That pulled Junmyeon’s gaze back to him. Hyung. His expression was as playful as that word sounded. Junmyeon swallowed.

 

"Sure," he agreed.

 

Baekhyun took a drag of his cigarette, fingers long, nails neat-looking. Gaze focused on Junmyeon through it.

 

"What do you work as, hyung? I always see you wearing a suit."

 

He didn’t know what or how but that word sounded different on Baekhyun’s tongue, on his voice, his mouth. It didn’t sound respectful but not disrespectful either. Not formal but not impolite either.  Like he wasn’t calling Junmyeon that because he was older. Like he was calling Junmyeon that way because he felt like it. Junmyeon was used to _hyung_ sounding whiny or panicky back at the bank. Here, in front of their apartment building, smoke an insignificant veil between them, that disappeared in the blink of an eye, it sounded pleasant. He liked the sound of it.

 

"I work in a bank. Yongha Bank," he added, grinning at the impressed sound and look Baekhyun gave him.

 

"Are you rich then?" he asked, voice fluttering like the smoke he blew out. The goofiness in his smile, in the wiggle of his eyebrows made Junmyeon laugh heartily.

 

"I’m not," he sighed, adding disappointment to his tone. it made Baekhyun chuckle. Junmyeon bit his lips, hesitating. Baekhyun looked at him, silent. Maybe he had noticed Junmyeon wanted to say something. Usually, he picked up a conversation much quicker. Junmyeon had noticed too. "Actually, when I was a kid I wanted to work in a bank because I thought rich people worked there. Of course, as I grew up, I noticed how foolish I was," he huffed, chuckling. Baekhyun did too. 

 

This felt a little too confidential. It was a childhood story that led to the biggest part of Junmyeon’s life now. No one really knew, besides his parents and Minseok. But he felt like he knew Baekhyun. Knew he hated screaming. Knew how his laugh sounded through the walls. Knew that he left his socks around the house and it drove his wife crazy.

 

"But I was too lazy to change my dream job," he continued, looking down at where he scratched the tip of his shoe against the ground. "By the time I was thirteen, I never thought about being anything else. So I continued not thinking about anything else to avoid the bother. And well, the pay is pretty nice so I’m okay."

 

"At least you stuck to something and worked for it," Baekhyun said lightheartedly. He looked less agitated than earlier. "I kept changing my mind until senior year of high school."

 

Junmyeon smiled. Maybe it was a good thing. He didn’t hate his job. 

 

He took a deep breath in and pushed himself away from the wall. He’d been here long enough. Not that he was tired of Baekhyun’s presence, but he just wasn’t used to doing this - talking with his neighbor, sharing childhood stories with someone who wasn’t really a friend. It was a bit tiring. Junmyeon had exhausted his socializing quota for the week. He was a little proud of himself. This was their longest conversation and Junmyeon had actually participated in it actively instead of just listening and nodding.

 

Telling Baekhyun that he had to wake up early tomorrow, he bid him a goodnight. It wasn’t entirely true. The bank opened at 9am and Junmyeon had to be there half an hour to fifteen minutes earlier. He usually woke up around 7am and after years, he couldn’t consider  that early anymore.

 

Baekhyun let him go with a smile. Junmyeon spied gratefulness in when he took the red lighter out of his pocket and silently waved it at him.

 

The silence in his home didn’t feel as overbearing as usual after such a long, and amiable conversation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You should come to the gym," Minseok said after the waiter left their table with wishes of a good meal.

 

Though, he wasn’t really a waiter. This restaurant was a bit more particular than others, they didn’t bring the food cooked but fired up a burner on the table and cooked it there, under the clients’ eyes. Talking with Minseok as they watched the different ingredients added to their kimchi-jjigae was a quite interesting experience. Especially the part where they sliced the tofu. Junmyeon hadn’t seen anyone slice tofu in years. There was just something weirdly soothing about a block of tofu being cut into thick but perfect slices and the low sound the knife made against the cutting board.

 

He grabbed his chopsticks and pulled his bowl closer to himself. 

 

"This is quite random," Junmyeon said, even if Minseok literally worked at the gym. That was exactly what he was thinking when he looked up at Junmyeon with a deadpan look, cutting himself off mid blow on his stew.

 

"Your yearly membership is still ongoing!" Minseok said, blinking at the steam rising into his eyes from his bowl. Junmyeon twisted his mouth and shrugged. "Then cancel it! You’re wasting money," Minseok said with the same exact amused exasperation he always had whenever this subject came up.

 

"I might actually go one day," Junmyeon protested, reaching for the seasoned seaweed on a small dish between them. "And I have money to waste anyway," he huffed, shoving the seaweed into his mouth and humming at the rich sesame oil flavor.

 

"Get a sugar baby then," Minseok snorted and when he dipped his spoon in the stew, Junmyeon did the same, blowing on it a little before slurping it. He grimaced at the initial, strong taste of spiciness and then went back for more. "Or a boyfriend," he added, voice lowered.

 

Junmyeon looked around out of habit. The tables surrounding theirs were empty, the rest of the customers had preferred taking the tables bordering against the wide windows of the restaurant. It was raining today.

 

He grabbed a slice of pork between his chopsticks, catching a bit of onion from the broth too before bringing it to his mouth. He chewed with his mouth open as it was still way too hot but it didn’t take the satisfying flavor away one bit. Minseok let out a pained sound and stuck his tongue out. They could wait for their meal to cool down but that wasn’t fun. And they were hungry.

 

"If I wanted sex, I’d just find a hookup," Junmyeon said, taking rice in his spoon and dipping it in the broth. "That’s much easier to get than a boyfriend."

 

"But you don’t like hookups," Minseok stated in-between shovels of rice into his mouth. He ate way too quickly for someone who took care of his body that much. 

 

Junmyeon’s eyes jolted down to his chest, the sculpt of it obvious. It had always been. It would almost be weird for Minseok not to have a muscled chest, a muscled abdomen, muscled arms. He grabbed more rice too.

 

"Contrary to you," Junmyeon singsonged, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

 

Minseok laughed and shrugged shamelessly. Not that there was even any shame left between them. 

 

"Not my fault if I have a high sex drive."

 

"How’s it going with that crush of yours?" Junmyeon asked around a mouthful of tofu, onions, and kimchi. Someone called out for a bowl of rice and the same young man as earlier immediately called back out to the woman with an energetic _yes!_

 

Junmyeon looked back at Minseok just in time to see the exaggerated dreamy look that made his eyes turn skywards as he sighed with his shoulders.

 

"He’s still incredibly amazing at push-ups. His form is just-" He gestured wildly, pulling laughter out of Junmyeon. It stopped when Minseok’s features twisted though. "I’m pretty sure he’s straight though. I touch his body a lot while helping him exercise but there’s no reaction at all."

 

Junmyeon shook his head, tutting in mock disbelief. "How do all your crushes end up being straight?"

 

Minseok pointed at him with his spoon. "A gay man’s demise," he said, lowering his voice dramatically. He shook his head then, mirroring Junmyeon and focusing back on his food. "What about your neighbors? Still fighting? No sign of makeup sex yet?"

 

Someone called out for another bowl of rice again, overlapping with Minseok’s last few words. 

 

"Nope," Junmyeon said, tucking more food into his mouth and waiting to swallow to continue. "Weirdly, they only ever just fight. There’s never makeup sex. I would hear it."

 

Though, it wasn’t a bad thing. The last thing Junmyeon needed was for someone to shove into his eyes the fact that people were out there, having sex, getting blowjobs, getting pounded, while he just sat in his living room and drew chibis. At least, they were cute chibis. He had gifted a whole set to Minseok once. Minseok chibis. All of them had cat ears and whiskers. Minseok kept them on his fridge.

 

"Well, at least it won’t be awkward when you meet him," Minseok noted, gaze following a man who walked past them to reach a table at the back.

 

"I already met him actually. He’s nice." At Minseok’s raised eyebrow, Junmyeon weakly kicked him under the table. "Yes. We talked a few times," he added in an embarrassed hiss. Minseok always made a big deal of every _real_ conversation Junmyeon had with anyone.

 

"How is he? Ugly and crusty? Is that why his wife always screams at him?"

 

Junmyeon snorted, putting a hand in front of his mouth when he felt green onions coming dangerously close to being spit out. Minseok didn’t even give him a judgmental look.

 

"Actually he’s not ugly or crusty," he said, stopping to hum for a bit. On the contrary, Baekhyun was quite good-looking. With his ripped jeans and the cottony skin of his eyelids. "He’s pretty young, even. I’m surprised he’s married _and_ already close to divorcing."

 

That was maybe mean to say but truthfully, this marriage did feel like it was about to snap into pieces. Junmyeon could hear every single crack in the structure.

 

"Well, I think they should get a divorce before this marriage and all the fights actually turn them crusty," Minseok shrugged and Junmyeon hummed in agreement, slurping the broth in his spoon.

 

Minseok then started complaining about a colleague from work who was very stressed and giving everyone else a hard time because he was going to get married in two weeks. Junmyeon listened, the story as pleasant as the meal he shared with his best friend.

 

At some point, he thought about getting married himself. It was a weird thought. That wasn’t likely to happen. Not because he was attracted only to men and there was no way he’d ever be able to get married in this country, but because no one had ever fallen in love with him.

 

Marriage implied falling love. Someone falling in love with him. He couldn’t see that happening, for some reason. He felt too ordinary to be part of a love story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He grabbed a few bags of chips. Three of them, holding them in one hand by their corners, before looking around a little more. He needed snacks. Sometimes, stress-eating was better than smoking. 

 

And he was stressed. He would be less stressed if he hadn’t caught his boss talking about the rank of each female employee at the bank according to their chest size. He hadn’t seen who was taking part in the conversation alongside him but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mr. Cho and even Sungjin. He hated working in that bank.

 

Trying his hardest not to stomp angrily, Junmyeon headed towards the drinks section and pulled a few beers in the cradle of his arm.

 

"Is it a beer kind of night for you too?" he heard from behind him and when he turned around, his smile was returned with a cheeky one. Baekhyun’s smiles were either bright or dull. There was no in-between, no consensus between the two extremities of their mood.

 

He hadn’t seen Baekhyun for the past few days but the curve of his lips looked even more worn out than it had that night, under the yellow light and the layers of smoke.

 

"Yep," Junmyeon said, the end of a tiring day not even allowing him to keep his words even and formal like he usually did. He looked at Baekhyun when he stepped beside him and grabbed a few grey cans too, the same brand as what Junmyeon was holding. They looked heavy in his hands. His hands looked leaden. His back was hunched. "But yours seem to be worse," Junmyeon couldn’t help but say when Baekhyun accidentally knocked over a can on the shelf.

 

His shoulders shook with a snort. They looked frail, even under his jacket. The sound was stronger than Baekhyun looked, a propulsion of sourness that stained the twist of his mouth.

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together and when Baekhyun looked at him, tried giving him a smile. The twitch at the corners of Baekhyun’s lips was miserably insignificant. He turned around and headed towards the check out counter, Baekhyun’s footsteps slithering behind him. 

 

"I’ll wait for you outside," Junmyeon found himself saying as he slid his card out of his wallet to pay even if the young part-timer wasn’t done ringing up all his beer yet.

 

The trail of Baekhyun’s gaze up from the floor to Junmyeon’s face was so slow Junmyeon wondered if his eyelids were in fact made of steel and were too difficult to lift when he looked up. The smile Baekhyun gave him was of a much weaker material. Maybe tinfoil. His upper lip was thin and his expression looked like it could easily be ripped apart with a single slip of inattention.

 

After paying and getting out, when the wind made the black bag he was holding screech, Junmyeon realized that he had initiated a conversation. A meeting. Something. Whatever this was going to be, Junmyeon was the one to spark it off.

 

He huffed a laugh, the sound captured by the wind and dragged away before it could even reach his ears. He went to wait for Baekhyun on the lone bench right across the convenience store, facing the road. It creaked once when he sat down, twice when Baekhyun settled next to him.

 

"I still have your lighter," he said after sitting down with a groan much too loud for someone of his age. He had the lighter in hand, waving it between them as proof. He shoved it in his pocket. "I don’t need rescuing tonight."

 

The pride in his voice was absent from his face. A lot of things were absent from his face. Baekhyun’s cheeks were plump but his face, tonight, looked hollow.

 

"You look like you need someone to talk to," Junmyeon said, a sentence he had repeated dozens of times in his life before. This time though, he had the song of a foreign band in mind, blending in with a plumate voice that had raised a shudder of gratification on his body only a few days ago. There was no more trace of it now. He had heard Baekhyun’s voice on the radio once, but this still felt wrong. Too different. Unfitting.

 

Baekhyun sighed, dropping his own bag between his feet, on the ground. Cans cluttered, a car passed by, a breeze pried on them for a moment before running away.

 

"That is the kind of rescuing I need tonight."

 

"I didn’t hear you fight this time. I’m not sure what happened," Junmyeon says, with a tint of hesitation. He didn’t know if that was the right thing to say.

 

Baekhyun laughed. Small, shallow, but still a laugh. Maybe it had been the right thing to say.

 

"We fought this morning. I spent the whole day outside," he sighed again, leaning back against the backrest of the bench. It creaked. Junmyeon put his bag on the ground and reached inside, holding out a can of beer to Baekhyun even if he had just bought his own.

 

Baekhyun looked at it and smiled, shaking his head. It was that grateful smile, the same one he had whenever Junmyeon held a lighter out to him. He didn’t take it, reached for a can in his own bag instead.

 

"Why did you fight?" Junmyeon asked as they opened up their cans almost simultaneously, another car whooshing by to join in the harmony.

 

Baekhyun took a big sip, cheeks puffing up with it for a moment, lips pressed together to contain the drink in his mouth, before he gradually gulped it down.

 

He laughed. Junmyeon shouldn’t call these depleted sounds a laugh.

 

"Because I was laughing at a show I was watching and she said that it was annoying. To quiet down." 

 

That was a small thing. Such a small thing. Baekhyun’s voice sounded big. Stretched by the beer, or maybe by the grandness of what that minor thing had led to. 

 

Someone walked behind them, quick steps, dress shoes. Junmyeon took a sip of his beer, held the can on his lap, cradled in his hands. Baekhyun held it in one hand, the other hanging between them, his arm thrown over the backrest, bent at the elbow.

 

"And it upset me, you know?" he said, looking at Junmyeon. He didn’t know what Baekhyun was seeking for but he nodded. He understood, to some extent. "We used to laugh together a lot. We’re best friends. We were. Since high school. She was still my best friend after we got together, right before graduating high school. She still was after we got married five years ago. But we haven’t laughed together in so long. And it saddens me."

 

And Junmyeon could see it. Could see it in the way Baekhyun didn’t leave an opening in-between his sentences to allow Junmyeon to jump in and say something. Could see it in the way he kept taking sips in the midst of his sentences instead of at their end. Could see it in the tremor of his smile. In the tumbling disbelief of his laugh, in the shake of his head.

 

"I just want to laugh with her," Baekhyun said, gesturing in front of him, words slow, weighty, the despair striking in the way he pronounced them as if it wasn’t Junmyeon that should understand him, should listen to him, but her.  "At stupid things, at each other. But all we do is scream at each other. She used to say I had a cute laugh, a loud, deep one but a cute one," he recalled and the laugh at the end of his words was just that. Deep, cute. It fissured at the end, along with the reminiscence, Junmyeon figured. Another sip. He took one too. "Now she hates it. Well, I hate things too. I hate the way she always forgets small balls of hair on the sink after showering and brushing her hair instead of throwing it out right away."

 

Junmyeon thought back to all the hair he always left in the sink after shaving.

 

"I hate the way she randomly starts humming under her breath while I’m working right there." He stopped, brought a hand up to ruffle his hair, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, still holding onto his can. "I don’t know when we started hating what we used to find cute about each other. It’s just so fucking sad."

 

It was. It truly was. Junmyeon had never thought about this aspect of marriage. Five years was a long time to live with someone, to love someone. A lot could change in five years, especially feelings.

 

Junmyeon was barely halfway through his beer, Baekhyun shook his own can to check if there was any left. The sound of liquid sloshing helped Junmyeon sort his thoughts out. Baekhyun threw his head back, Junmyeon couldn’t see an Adam’s apple bobbing when he drank the last of his beer. It was a nice neck nonetheless, smooth. He wasn’t wearing a scarf, his jacket looked thin and wasn’t zipped up. Ripped jeans. Junmyeon wondered how he could dress like that on one of the last nights of February and not turn into a shivering leaf the wind could easily pick up and drag away.

 

Baekhyun lowered the can and crushed it in his hand, loudly enough to pick up Junmyeon’s gaze and drag it away from his neck.

 

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of beer for more efficiency, and then looked at Baekhyun again. He was staring at the crushed can of beer like it had broken his heart and his fingers.

 

"I don’t know anything about marriage but," he stopped for a second when Baekhyun looked at him and continued, "do you have a big problem? Maybe all these small things are just that. Small things, not the problem in itself."

 

Baekhyun chewed on his lower lip as he gazed at Junmyeon for a moment, then he looked down, head hanging limply between his shoulders.

 

"I don’t know," he mumbled, voice shrunk by something Junmyeon didn’t know. He probably would never know. "I really don’t know."

 

"Maybe that’s the problem," he said, wrapping as much care as possible around his voice. He didn’t want Baekhyun to think he was blaming or mocking him. Junmyeon just wanted to help, even the slightest bit.

 

Baekhyun looked at him again, eyebrows slanted upwards.

 

"I mean," Junmyeon said, raising a hand in front of him and shaking his head, trying to find the right words. "You’re fighting without even knowing why. Have you tried asking yourself why you’re fighting? Asking her why she’s fighting with you?" 

 

Baekhyun slowly looked away from him and straight ahead instead. Junmyeon took a sip of his beer as he brought a hand up, biting on a knuckle as he remained silent. Junmyeon watched him, wordless. He needed a cigarette. He couldn’t smoke here, on the sidewalk, when people were walking around.

 

"I feel like we didn’t have a conversation about us in a year. An actual conversation," Baekhyun eventually spoke and even if he wasn’t looking at him, Junmyeon still nodded in encouragement. He only had a little bit of beer left. Baekhyun sighed and leaned back against the backrest again, looking up. "But I think. I think she wants a child. I know she does. But I don’t. And when we settled that a year ago, that’s when it started turning to hell. Slowly, just small things. And then. Now. The way we are now." He stopped, sucked his upper lip in, lower lip close to his mole now. Voice tiny. "But I still love her."

 

Children. That was a serious topic. Junmyeon had always thought it was a topic that brought families closer, not snapped them apart. He threw his head back to gather the last drops of his beer and then put the can on the bench, between them. He took a deep breath in.

 

"Have you told her?" he questioned, lacing his hands together, meeting Baekhyun’s dim gaze. The streetlights were brighter.

 

"No." A bitter smile carved into his features. "Not in days, weeks, months maybe. We’re fighting too often for me to remember to tell her."

 

"It won’t magically fix the problems but just remembering you love each other might help a little bit." It was easy to forget. So easy to forget that there was someone in this world who cared. It must be even easier to forget when that person only screamed at you, remained silent as you screamed at them.

 

Baekhyun nodded, silent, grave. Then, he snorted out an ugly sound. It left a good-looking smile in its wake when he looked at Junmyeon again.

 

"You must be a love expert," he said, dragging his words out as he tilted closer to Junmyeon.

 

Junmyeon chortled, mimicking him and tilting closer too. "My only love experience is yours. Through the walls."

 

Baekhyun’s shoulders didn’t look as frail anymore when he perked up with laughter.

 

"Ah," he sighed, long, noisy. "I’m sorry all I’ve shown you is the bad side of love." He stopped, looked heavenward. Smile gone. Pensiveness back. Voice hiding somewhere far. "Though, I can’t remember if there’s any good side to it at all."

 

"I’m sure there is," Junmyeon shrugged with an easy smile. His parents loved each other. He had never seen them fight, at least not as much as Baekhyun and Hyeran.

 

"Anyway," Baekhyun sighed, looking back at Junmyeon. He put the deformed can on the bench, next to Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon wasn’t sure whether he was smiling or if it was just a shadow hanging to the corners of his lips. "Enough talking about me. How was your day?"

 

"It was great," Junmyeon answered without giving it much thought.

 

"Great?" Baekhyun repeated, narrowing his eyes a little. It was definitely a smile, not a shadow. But it didn’t look right. "That’s really all you’re going to give me? After hearing my wife scream every single one of my flaws?"

 

Junmyeon pursed his lips. "Well, you scream at her too," he said, raising his eyebrows.

 

Baekhyun instantly deflated and Junmyeon let out a quiet, airy laugh at the sight.

 

"You’re right," he sighed as he reached down to grab one more can from the bag.

 

Laughter behind them, quiet, then loud, then quiet again when the female voices got farther away. Baekhyun opened his can with a small groan. Junmyeon needed a cigarette. He let the passing cars tow his gaze to the left, the right, the left again. He could hear Baekhyun’s biggest gulps. He looked at him again. He could go home now. He wasn’t drinking, only Baekhyun was. It was getting late. But Baekhyun looked so alone even when Junmyeon was sitting right next to him.

 

"I listened to your radio show," Junmyeon said after a few silent sips from Baekhyun. He had been looking for something to say all through it.

 

"Oh really?" Baekhyun perked up faintly, looking at him. "I didn’t think you’d do it."

 

Junmyeon shrugged. "I didn’t expect it to be your show."

 

Baekhyun smiled with a corner of his mouth. A bit too high. Forced. "I hope it was a nice surprise."

 

"It was," Junmyeon smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets, raising his shoulders as if that would protect his neck from the cold. "I liked it."

 

Baekhyun smiled. Effete, but still a smile. One that didn’t look like tension stretching his features.

 

Junmyeon smiled. Big. Uncontrolled. His first loose smile since the beginning of his unending day.

 

Making a sad person smile made him feel less ordinary. 

 

Junmyeon stayed there, waited until Baekhyun finished his beer, and then asked him if he would like to walk home together. Another smile. Grateful. Baekhyun or him, he wasn’t sure. Walking home alone made the path feel isolated and interminable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, when Junmyeon woke up, he thought back on it. 

 

His day had been great. Today too, his day would be described as great.

 

In his bed, arm stretched out to occupy the empty space on his second pillow, he thought about it.

 

Were his days great? They weren’t greater than everybody else’s. What was a great day even? To him, it was just any day. He had bad days. When work was too unbearable, when he sent a message to Minseok but he was too busy to reply until the evening. But his days were great. 

 

Sometimes, he wished his days were more than great. Less dull. 

 

His days were all the same. 

 

Why did he go to work after waking up? Because that was what everyone did. 

 

Why didn’t he quit if he disliked his job? Because no one truly quit the job they disliked. Because everyone needed money. 

 

Did he dislike his job though? Not really. Maybe if his boss was someone else, it’d be a little better. 

 

Would his days ever be actually great? Or would _great_ be the default summary of every single one of his days forever?

 

Wondering this was useless. He was getting late to work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glasses clinking. Lights shifting but never truly shining. Noise. Too much noise. Ugly laughter. Rowdy laughter. Indecent laughter tainted by the equally disagreeable words that sourced them. Noise. Tambourine. Forced laughter. Junmyeon's shoulders didn't even quiver. Minyoung's features were rigid as she opened up another can of beer for Mr. Kim.

 

Noise. Too much noise. Junmyeon raised his own beer, one hand holding onto his opposite arm as he smiled until his cheeks felt desperate to flee this room and never come back. He hated Friday nights. He hated Mr. Kim. He hated how powerless he felt whenever any of the male, older, senior employees looked at any of the female employees present in the room. He hated how hesitant the younger male employees were while following this rotten example. He hated how close Mr. Kim was sitting to their youngest employee. His smile. Wrinkles, hauteur, drunkenness that didn't excuse any of his actions. 

 

Minyoung pulled Jeha closer to her and took her place next to Mr. Yoo. He didn't even complain. He quite liked Minyoung. Especially her breast size, Junmyeon had heard. Junmyeon had almost retched. Jeha sat down next to Jaehwan. Jaehwan looked at Junmyeon worriedly, said nothing. No one could say anything. Minyoung didn't like letting the younger employees take on everything. She was used to it. She was better at faking enjoyment and concealing disgust.

 

Junmyeon gulped his beer down. Smiled at Jeha, and then at Saehee. Mr. Cho had an arm thrown around her shoulders as he drunkenly sang to an old ballad, a classic that had lost all its appeal after the very first time Junmyeon had attended the noraebang session on the very first hoesik on his very first friday with the bank. He took another sip. Got up. Walked to Mr. Yang. Another senior. Didn’t even work in their branch of the bank, was just one of the closest friends of the Branch Manager. Had a misplaced liking for Jinhee. Junmyeon sliced his throat open with laughter as he sang along and discreetly, he sat down between Jinhee and Mr. Yang. It was a difficult task. His thigh was stuck to hers. But he did it. He'd much prefer his thigh being stuck to the old man’s. He'd scrub it tonight. Once he'd be home.

 

A disaster. It was always a disaster. It lasted too long. More alcohol, more songs, tambourine being passed along. Junmyeon couldn't be everywhere. He looked everywhere. Apologized with his gaze to whoever he couldn't help. He felt like utter, complete shit. For being unable. Just for being unable.

 

It ended. Too late. Everyone was piss drunk. Everyone who mattered in the company, at least, who had worked there longer than most, who had a position close to the Branch Manager. It ended and when Junmyeon waved at people he hated with his most polite smile, then bowed at all his seniors with his mostest polite smile, when everyone scattered around in taxis, when he pried Minyoung away from Mr. Yoo, Junmyeon took a deep breath in. It felt rotten in his mouth. Putrid.

 

Everyone left. Minyoung and him were left. His head was pounding. Junmyeon wanted to go home and never get out. He didn't even need money. He didn't, not when everyone who handed him that money was so abhorrent. He wanted to go home. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and looked at Minyoung.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, tasting sourness under his teeth when he bit into his lower lip. "I'm really sorry," he repeated. Had repeated a lot. He shouldn't. He shouldn't apologize. He should act. He was well-aware of that. He couldn't. He didn't know whether that made him hate his boss more, or himself. 

 

Minyoung shook her head. Her smile finally looked easy. Not squeezed out of her. Just dragged down, exhausted. 

 

"It's alright. I know," she said, voice loud because the noraebang behind them was still booming. Junmyeon wondered how many more Junmyeons there were inside that noraebang. How many more Minyoungs. A lot of Junmyeons, he figured. Many more Minyoungs. An unending supply of Mr. Yoos.

 

Minyoung patted his shoulder casually when Junmyeon said nothing. She knew. Her smile was accepting. Used. Used to. Junmyeon disliked it.

 

"Should I walk you home?" he offered, tried, voice small because it was pathetic. All he could do was offer to walk her home. Inside that room, there wasn't much he could do. Outside of it, there was even less he could do. Not when alcohol wasn't there to blur memories of discord and what would be considered rudeness.

 

Minyoung laughed. Much easier. She stepped back, her bag swinging in her hand. She didn't look ill at ease. Didn't look disturbed. Didn't look upset. Junmyeon hated it.

 

"It's okay," she snorted when Junmyeon looked at her, silent to make her understand he wasn't joking. She pressed her lips together, tight, smile peeling off her face. "I don't need you to walk me home. I'm alright. It's okay." Another smile. This one was small, worn out.

 

Junmyeon always offered. She always turned him down. He understood. He, too, wouldn't want to spend any other second with a man, were he in her shoes. He didn't want to spend a single second with a man. He wasn't in her shoes. He couldn't understand, he supposed. It still revolted him. It revolted him more that he was useless.

 

He nodded. She patted his arm again, then tightened her ponytail, waved at him, and turned around. Junmyeon watched her for a moment, her straight posture. Straight save for her head that was tilted down. He hoped. He hoped with all his being that it wasn't shame. _She_ shouldn't be ashamed.

 

Junmyeon was.

 

He turned around, shoved his hands into his pockets, looked down, recoiled his head into his shoulders, and walked back home. The pounding of that room didn't die down no matter how far away he got from it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon didn't step out of his house the whole weekend.

 

He tried fermenting kimchi on Saturday. He had asked his mother to stop sending it to him. Not because he didn't like her kimchi, it was the best, tastiest kimchi in the world. He just didn't want her to travel all the way to his house, didn't want to travel all the way to her house either. He was thirty two. He didn't want to go to his mom for food. He didn't let it ferment overnight. He started eating it as soon as he was done soaking it in the paste.

 

That was all he had to do.

 

On Sunday, he did laundry. Cleaned around his house. Moved empty take out boxes from his low table to his kitchen counter. 

 

He didn't reply to Minseok's messages until the evening. He should. It would give him something to do. But Junmyeon was tired. Of what, of whom, he wasn't sure. But he didn't have the energy to talk, even if he craved a voice to listen to. Or maybe talk with. Talk with, for a change.

 

He watched a movie. Another. He took a nap. He smoked. Threw his rotten tomatoes out. Ate expired yogurt because he wanted yogurt but didn't want to go out and get good yogurt. He smoked. He watched the news. He smoked. Checked the stock market rates, checked stats about their rival banks, loan rates, how many clients he was in charge of. Smoked.

 

When his living room was getting too stuffy and blurry, he slid his balcony window open. Then the kitchen. He was on the ground floor. No one jumped inside. Not even a fly. No one. He opened his bedroom window. 

 

Baekhyun was outside, standing in that same spot he had been standing on when they had shared a lighter through the bars of his balcony, a conversation, an ashtray. He was looking at Junmyeon's balcony. Staring. Thoughtful. Then he looked at Junmyeon's neighbor's balcony. Then at Junmyeon's again. Then at his neighbor’s. Junmyeon wondered what he was looking for exactly, what he was comparing.

 

He left the window open and moved away from it. He crashed on his bed.

 

Woke up. Smoked. Got out of bed. Made himself coffee. Bumped his knee against the table. Switched the television on. Watched people laughing, talking, walking, eating. Together.

 

Junmyeon made himself dinner. Ramyeon. Rice. Kimchi in both bowls. He drew his favorite character from a children's cartoon he used to watch three lifetimes ago. He taped it on a bottle of lifeless coke. Pushed it so it would stand right across from him on the table, look at him, smile at him.

 

Then, he started eating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Monday came, Junmyeon was partially relieved, partially impatient for Saturday to save him. 

 

He didn't want to leave his house. But he had to. So his tie wasn't crooked, his shirt wasn't creased, his jacket was buttoned under his coat, and his hair would look good unless the wind didn't want it to.

 

He pushed the door open and he knew it was windy today right away. Baekhyun's hair was flying all around, away from his forehead, flopping back on it again when the breeze died down. He didn't seem to mind it, however. Cigarette in hand, one arm crossed against his chest, the other limp save for fingers secured around the orange of the filter. No ripped jeans today. Sweatpants. No coat. He was standing a few steps away from the door, to the left. Junmyeon knew he wouldn't bother anyone with cigarette smoke from there.

 

After a weekend confined in isolation, Junmyeon smiled at the sight. Of someone. Anyone. Or maybe Baekhyun's own smile bounced off his round cheeks and landed on Junmyeon's own face. 

 

He had a nice mouth. Junmyeon wouldn’t mind anything about that mouth landing anywhere near him. Junmyeon also should’ve jerked off this weekend.

 

He snatched his gaze away from it and let the invitation in Baekhyun's silent gaze and gentle smile pull him closer.

 

"I didn’t know radio DJ’s had to be up by 8am," he said, smile as light as his tone when he stood in front of Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun laughed smoke out and Junmyeon breathed in the cigarette craving. But he had brushed his teeth already and he didn’t want to smell like cigarettes at the bank. He sniffled.

 

"Only men who’ve been sleeping on the couch for a month straight wake up so early to take a walk and a cig," Baekhyun said with a long sigh. It didn’t even sound annoyed or sad, just accepting and casual. Maybe that was worse. The fact that he seemed to have gotten used to it.

 

Junmyeon scrunched his features. He hated sleeping on the couch. He also disliked that someone he actually didn’t mind talking to, actually enjoyed conversing with, had to go through something like this.

 

"I wish I could help," he muttered for what felt like the hundredth time. But he couldn’t, not really.

 

Baekhyun smiled, shoulders perking up along with the corners of his lips for a second before dropping again. "You actually do." He shifted his weight from a leg to the other, tilting closer to Junmyeon. 

 

Junmyeon raised his eyebrows, one hand fiddling with a button on his coat as the other faintly swayed his bag. 

 

"How so?" he questioned, truly having no idea. He hadn’t done anything. He never did.

 

Baekhyun took a drag of his cigarette, dusted ash off on the ground. Junmyeon breathed his smoke in again. A deep breath. 

 

"Well, you always find me when I’m in a chatty mood. It’s also easy to talk to you." He gestured towards Junmyeon with his cigarette, vague and small. "You look like you have everything figured out and would tell me exactly what I should do."

 

Junmyeon couldn’t help but look down at himself, following Baekhyun’s gaze.

 

He really didn’t. Junmyeon didn’t have everything figured out. Didn’t have an answer to everyone’s problems. Unfortunately. When he looked up, Baekhyun was still looking at him, more attentively, eyebrows furrowed. It didn’t take away the overall friendliness of his face, nor Junmyeon’s will to start his day by talking to him.

 

"Though," Baekhyun hummed, pursing his lips to one side and then to the other. "You don’t really. But that’s okay."

 

Junmyeon chortled at that. He was glad Baekhyun didn’t mind talking to him despite the absence of solutions Junmyeon could provide him with.

 

"I’m better at listening than telling people what to do," he said, looking over Baekhyun’s shoulder when someone, probably from another building of the complex, reached the parking lot and unlocked their car.

 

It wasn’t entirely true. Junmyeon wished it was.

 

"A good listener, that you are," Baekhyun agreed with a nod, finally looking back up at Junmyeon’s face. It made him smile, for some reason. The validation. Baekhyun pulled a lighter out of his pocket, red, Junmyeon’s, and lit up his cigarette again after noticing that the wind had killed it. Junmyeon should probably leave. A drag, a hissy sigh, and another gesture towards Junmyeon. "Nice suit."

 

This time, Junmyeon didn’t look down at himself. He grinned and, hands in his pockets, he parted the two lapels of his coat further to give Baekhyun more of a glimpse since only a stripe of his black shirt, tie, and jacket could be seen until then.

 

"The man makes the suit," he said, tone cheesy and dragged.

 

Baekhyun burst into laughter, the clarity of the sound widening Junmyeon’s smile.

 

"I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes," he said, after an exaggeratedly thoughtful hum, eyes narrowed. Playful. Junmyeon was rarely playful with strangers. Everyone at work except Minyoung was a stranger, had been for years. Baekhyun didn’t feel like one.

 

Junmyeon was glad his attempt at being funny, at  being comfortable, at being himself was well-received.

 

"But is it a lie in this situation?" he questioned, pulling a hand out of his pocket and gesturing at his body with an eyebrow raised and a smile.

 

Baekhyun hummed more, stared more, took a longer drag. Junmyeon didn’t move, let him hum, let him stare.

 

Baekhyun flicked his fag end to the ground and crushed it with the tip of his shoe before looking back at Junmyeon.

 

"It might not be," he said, a corner of his lips tugged up higher as he bent down to pick the butt of his cigarette up. Not the kind to just leave it on the ground.

 

Junmyeon let out a piece of laughter. Then stopped. Realized. This was flirting. Was this flirting? This could be considered flirting. Only to him, maybe, but still flirting. He had stopped doing that with straight men years ago.

 

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and buttoned his coat properly. He bid Baekhyun goodbye with a smile, a real one. Baekhyun returned it with a little wave of his hand. 

 

It was nice. Starting his day by talking to someone about nothing was nice. Junmyeon didn’t know he was capable of doing that.

 

If Baekhyun had really meant that he looked nice in a suit, that felt nice too.

 

Junmyeon really should’ve jerked off yesterday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Junmyeon remembered from his days was going to work and then coming back home.

 

Today had been a good day. Mr. Yoo had discharged from work before lunch time. Mr. Kim, the Vice Branch Manager had praised him on his hard work.

 

Maybe starting his days by talking to Baekhyun made them better. 

 

When he reached home that evening, a little after 5pm, Junmyeon was in a good mood. He celebrated it by taking a nap.

 

He woke up not long before 7pm and the good mood was numbed out by the sleep. 

 

He looked at his bed, the vastness laying beside him. Maybe he should get a smaller bed. It was half empty. He didn’t like the fact that it was half empty. Sometimes, he didn’t remember. Sometimes, he realized and the emptiness carved itself into his stomach too, spreading.

 

Maybe he was lonely. He wasn’t sure. He barely even noticed it anymore. It didn’t feel like he was lonely. It felt like _he_ was the loneliness.

 

He sighed. Grabbed a bottle of water from the pile on the floor, chugged down half of what remained inside. He fell back against his pillow, got up, and opened his window. If people were to walk by and talk, he’d hear it better this way. He crashed back down on his bed, laid on his stomach, looked at the wall instead of the void on his bed.

 

He grabbed his phone. He could watch a video on youtube. Could scroll Instagram. Could scroll through the hundreds of pictures he had in his own camera roll. Could call his mom. 

 

He tuned in to the radio, ignored upbeat songs and numbing conversations, changed the channel once, twice, thrice, and stopped.

 

"A breath." Junmyeon’s thumb hovered over the screen. "Something so natural, something that should be weightless to you. Sometimes, it feels like the hardest thing to carry, doesn’t it?"

 

Junmyeon swallowed. Baekhyun sighed, long, droopy. Massive. He pressed his lips together.

 

"It’s not just you struggling to breathe." Not an accusation, nor a chiding. Consolation. "I am breathing with you. Breathe with me." An enchanting voice, a tranquilizing sensation. Not the bad kind. A voice that billowed out of his phone and carefully weaved tenderness into him, pulling his eyelids closed. 

 

An inhalation. Junmyeon felt himself follow. Exhalation. Junmyeon’s chest deflated. In. Out. In. Out. His breath still felt bulky. But it took some of the weight away from him.

 

"Thank you for breathing," Baekhyun said, velvety, a pat on the back, a proud glint in the eyes, maybe gratefulness in sunken lines of the face. "It’s important. Your breath. It matters. Let it go, sometimes. Take it in, deep, until you feel like your chest will explode, until it hurts. And then, let it go. Just let it go."

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together, inhaled. It was difficult. Tightness in his throat, in his chest, in his eyes. The relieving kind.

 

"Thank you for being here." Almost a whisper. Bare. Heartfelt. Junmyeon felt it in his core. Alleviation. Of what, he didn’t know. Perhaps of too many things. "It’s okay to struggle with breathing. Thank you for breathing even if it’s tiring. Thank you for finding Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy today too. Tonight, my parting gift to you will be Park Hyoshin’s _Breath_."

 

Junmyeon opened his eyes when the first piano notes caressed his nape along with the icy evening breeze. He turned around to lie on his back. Sorrow in the depth of a voice as someone laughed outside.

 

The broadcast had ended. Too soon. Bouquet of Joy. The two times Junmyeon had tuned in, the show had ended with soulful ballads. He blinked. Blinked. Blinked wetness away. 

 

And yet, those ballads, these words, that voice, were more of a comfort than any skippy song would ever be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, Junmyeon caught a whole hour of the show. 

 

Baekhyun wasn’t only good at talking to his audience. He was good at reading their stories, trying to provide help and solutions, making himself laugh and making his listener smile. Ballads weren’t the only thing Baekhyun could play, Junmyeon hummed along to the catchy beat of a song as he stepped into his apartment building, one Baekhyun had sung a part of, keeping it alive right after it had died down.

 

His cheeks rejoiced at the sight of Minseok waiting for him in front of his door, holding onto two pizza boxes. They hadn’t seen each other since the bowling session, two weeks ago. Minseok wasn’t even shocked at how messy Junmyeon had managed to turn his house in that short amount of time. They cleaned together, Junmyeon occasionally getting nagged at and threatened with a cloth or a sponge. He laughed. Because that was what he always did with Minseok. 

 

Everything was easy with Minseok. Eating, drinking, talking, laughing, staying silent. Even cleaning.

 

"We should have sex," Junmyeon said in-between two bites, fingers holding onto the piece of bell pepper so it wouldn’t slide off the slice.

 

Minseok snorted, putting his pizza down on the box and grabbing his bottle of coke.

 

"Why should we?" he asked, the bottle clunking against the floor when he put it down.

 

Junmyeon shrugged. "It would make my life easier," he said, holding a hand in front of his mouth as he chewed.

 

"Ohh," Minseok dragged out, bumping his shoulder against Junmyeon’s with enough accidental strength to make him waver a bit. "Is the unstressable Kim Junmyeon stressed to that extent?"

 

Junmyeon snorted and lowered the volume of the television so they could hear each other better.

 

"If I was unstressable, I wouldn’t be smoking," he stated before biting into the crust of his pizza once and shoving the rest of it in his mouth right after.

 

Minseok sighed. "Right," he said, patting Junmyeon’s thigh with just the palm of his hand, making sure that his stained fingers didn’t touch his sweatpants. "I don’t think we can have sex though. Not that you’re not hot, because you do have a nice ass. Which is unfair, since you don’t come to the gym. But it would feel like incest."

 

Junmyeon laughed at that, an ugly huffy sound. He did have a pretty decent ass. He leaned towards the table that they had pushed away to make some room on the floor and grabbed his pack of Marlboros along with a lighter. Minseok looked up from where he was closing the pizza boxes and piling them together with Junmyeon’s empty bottle of coke on top.

 

He was right. It would be weird to see Minseok naked and touch his dick right after. Despair really tweaked with a man’s mind. 

 

"Or maybe you’re just in love with your Gym Crush already," he teased the other, ignoring the disapproving glance he gave him when Junmyeon lit up his cigarette.

 

"Well, he’s in love with his fiancée for sure," Minseok huffed, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, bottle of coke held on top of his thigh. "He even thanked me because apparently my help in building his body upped their sex life."

 

Junmyeon choked on smoke and laughed hard enough to fall down against Minseok who was in no better state. Although, he continuously slapped Junmyeon’s thigh and told him to stop laughing while doing it himself. Truly a gay man’s demise.

 

"I can set you up with a hookup though, if you’d like," Minseok offered when they both calmed down, Junmyeon’s hand resting on his cramping stomach. He had told Minseok that he felt like his abs were growing from laughing too much and he had gotten a flick against his forehead and an additional long moment of hiccupy laughter.

 

"Meh," Junmyeon grimaced, seemingly funnily enough for Minseok to laugh again.

 

Hookups weren’t his thing. He didn’t want to have sex with a stranger. He probably couldn’t even have sex with a stranger. He wasn’t in his early twenties anymore, there was nothing arousing about someone he didn’t know the laughter, the birthdate, or the voice intonations of.

 

He nudged Minseok with his knee. "You should leave now. I want to wank."

 

Minseok scrunched his nose, the sight tickling a titter out of Junmyeon. He stood up, grabbing the pizza boxes and the empty bottles. He was way too kind. Came as soon as he could when Junmyeon needed him. Left whenever Junmyeon was tired. Cleaned up, took him out to dinner, to fun places. Was his best friend. Junmyeon did nothing for Minseok, compared to this. But he knew Minseok would whip out a whole list of things Junmyeon did for him if he were to even say this out loud. It had happened before.

 

"Fine," he said when he came back from the kitchen and stood next to where Junmyeon was sitting. Arms crossed against his chest, chin tilted up so he’d look down on Junmyeon more than he should. Crooked, familiar smile. "I’ll allow you to think about me while jerking off since I just coolly turned you down."

 

Junmyeon put his cigarette on his ashtray and pushed himself up to his feet.

 

"That might kill my boner though," he frowned in mock pensiveness. Minseok narrowed his eyes. Junmyeon grinned. "Since, you know, whenever I think about you, I always see that crazed look you get as soon as you step into my apartment."

 

Minseok raised his eyebrows. "You mean your piggy house?"

 

Junmyeon’s chin  wrinkled when he pouted in offense. Minseok pinched his jutted out lower lip between his clean fingers while cooing mockingly and ruffled Junmyeon’s hair when he batted his hand away with a scoff.

 

He left after reminding Junmyeon to do his laundry this week and Junmyeon rolled his eyes as he closed the door but smiled afterwards.

 

It was late. Junmyeon went to bed and groaned as he let himself fall on the mattress. He was alone. He could jerk off, like he said he would. But he was tired. He wanted to sleep and if sleep didn’t want him, then he’d jerk off.

 

Sleep didn’t even want to go anywhere near him. He didn’t jerk off still. Instead, he listened to Baekhyun’s voice break as he accused his wife of being selfish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Do you have that much free time on your hands, Mr. Kim?"

 

Junmyeon looked up from where he was staring at his joined hands and met Mr. Yoo’s accusing glare.

 

"I’m sorry?" he said, voice as small as he could make it.

 

The man snorted, shaking his head once, before looking back down at the documents Junmyeon had brought him. His desk was bare save for these documents and his laptop. Too bare for the Branch Manager of a busy bank.

 

"I’m telling you," he started, enunciating every single word enough for Junmyeon to feel stupid. "Are you so available that you bring in other people’s documents to my office instead of working?"

 

Junmyeon tightened his grip on his own fingers, tilted his head down again.

 

"I’m sorry, Mr. Yoo," he said, quiet but firm enough to sound sincere.

 

Another scoff, the scratch of pen on paper. "Just focus on your own work, would you? You need that."

 

Junmyeon bowed, avoiding to meet the Manager’s gaze as he took the documents back from him with both his hands. He bowed again as he stepped back, turned around, and left the office, closing the door behind him with a sigh long enough for his whole body to decompress.

 

Minyoung was waiting for him down the hallway and he put on a smile as he approached her. As soon as she noticed him, she walked to him with a worried slant to her eyebrows.

 

"What did he do? He scolded you didn’t, he?" she questioned him, voice an urgent hush.

 

Junmyeon crushed his smile between his lips. "He was pretty disappointed to see me instead of your perfect ponytail," he joked, lighthearted, but not enough for Minyoung to laugh, apparently.

 

She sighed, looked over her shoulder when footsteps approached. It was Jaehwan, looking between them curiously but not that much. He had been there when Minyoung had asked him to give the boss the documents in her stead, very apologetically.

 

"I’m sorry," she said, looking at him again, her earrings trembling. "I shouldn’t have asked you to do it. I should’ve gone there myself."

 

Junmyeon shook his head, waved her apology off, and stepped closer to Jaehwan to straighten his tie. Mr. Yoo hated crooked ties. Even if he rarely wore his in the office.

 

"It’s alright," he said after Jaehwan gave him a sheepish smile. "I prefer me being scolded than you being uncomfortable."

 

"I wish you were our boss, hyung," Jaehwan said suddenly, a sigh following his words.

 

"That would make this place much, much better," Minyoung agreed immediately, exasperation raising her gaze to the ceiling.

 

Junmyeon chuckled, leaning closer and hiding his mouth behind his hand as he lowered his voice.

 

"If I ever become the Branch Manager, I’d give everyone a raise just to congratulate you on surviving in this bank for so long."

 

Jaehwan mimicked a dreamy sigh and all three of them laughed at his joke, quiet but amused.

 

It was a nice joke. Junmyeon becoming the boss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were halfway through March and that same evening, Baekhyun was excited about Spring. Junmyeon listened to his broadcast almost since the very beginning of it.

 

Laying on his bed was the most comfortable position to be in while listening to Baekhyun talk. It somehow suited his voice. The cradle of his blanket, the puffiness of his pillow, the urge to close his eyes. The comfort.

 

Suzy’s _Sober_ played, Junmyeon recognized that song because Minyoung used to hum it a lot when it was first released. He wondered if Baekhyun had a say in the songs he played, they were all pretty nice, mixed in mainstream music and healing songs. Thursdays were apparently a special day with a  special corner on the show. People could call in and direct an entire speech at someone, one they never had the courage to pronounce to that person in the flesh.

 

It was a young man talking to his mother, confessing that he had quit his job two months ago but couldn’t tell her until now because he was ashamed of it. So many years of studying, so many warm meals and proud words from her, and he had quit his job a year after starting. Baekhyun consoled him, didn’t sugar coat the youth unemployment problem the country was swept with, didn’t ignore it. Instead, he encouraged the young man and congratulated him on taking the decision he thought would be the best for him. Told him he had worked hard for a year and that he could do this. It might take a while, but he would find a job that matched him better and continue working hard.

 

He announced Heartfelt’s _I Wander_ then, the lyrics matching the situation perfectly. Or HA:TFELT, as Junmyeon found out after taking a liking to the song and searching for it on the internet.

 

Junmyeon thought back on it. On what Minyoung and Jaehwan had said. About him becoming the boss. He probably wouldn’t be able to do it. Not that he wouldn’t work hard to be able to do it, not that he couldn’t do it. But it was just too much responsibility, too much work, too out of the norm for him.

 

More catchy and uplifting songs. Junmyeon enjoyed most of them, scrolled through his Instagram feed, took pictures of the dimming light reflecting on his open window. A Story Corner. About First Love. Someone who wasn’t too happy about first love because they felt like they were changing, a bit unsure, but also excited at the same time.

 

Baekhyun’s voice was interesting. It could fluctuate, go into really high laughter when he got excited about something but also dipped into silky waters when he was serious, focused, or emotional. It was refreshing. Junmyeon liked it, it was similar to hearing him talk when they smoked together, but also so very different. Junmyeon liked his voice in both instances.

 

Red Velvet’s _Rebirth_. Junmyeon wondered if he’d ever feel that. What Baekhyun was describing. The excitement, the flutters, the feeling of freshness, renewal. What joyful, pealing voices were singing about. He wondered if Baekhyun had felt that, with Hyeran, if that was why he sounded so sincere, so absorbed while reading that story.

 

The song ended. Another started. He felt a little sad. A little lonely. He spread his arms and legs, filling up as much of his bed as possible. He felt a little tensed, itchy. He touched his chest, drummed his fingers on it, in sync with the beat of the song playing on the radio. He trailed his hand down and palmed himself through his slacks, took them off along with his underwear and touched bare skin.

 

Music petered out and Baekhyun spoke again. Junmyeon closed his eyes. He didn’t stop, he was already feeling anticipation coming alive under his touch, on his hardening member. He wondered if it was wrong. Jerking off while his neighbor was talking on the radio. He wasn’t really listening to whatever Baekhyun was saying, he couldn’t pay attention, but his voice was still clear to his ears from time to time, just little snippets. A laugh, the loud end of a sentence, a long, flat hum. Junmyeon shuddered.

 

It wouldn’t be his first time jerking off while listening to someone’s voice. ASMR videos always led to that. Always made it easier, quicker. Junmyeon liked quick. It was just his own hand, nothing to fuss about. The completion mattered more than the process.

 

He showered afterwards, leaving the radio on and the phone on his bed. He felt a little mushier under the water, after the pleasure had unraveled him. Less tense. Satisfied.

 

The show had already ended when Junmyeon came back to the bedroom and he switched to a random channel, with a female voice talking about this and that. He turned it off after a while. He went to the living room, smoked two cigarettes while doing nothing, and a third one while working. He replied to a few emails, looked at his schedule for tomorrow, he had a few appointments. He checked the bank’s ranking. Still fourth.

 

He went out to stand on his balcony a little bit, looking at dark trees, dark grass, a dark sky. It was 9pm already. He would be able to go to sleep soon. Just a little more. He went back in and opened up his old DeviantArt account. Scrolled through things he had posted more than a decade ago, noticed his progress, his shortcomings, the chibis he was most proud of, the broken english on the captions. He looked at the number of favorites on his posts. Ten was his record, he remembered being so happy when his art had been liked by ten entire people. Even if it wasn’t his best work.

 

The radio was on again. He wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, just to the voice as he read a bunch of articles on the internet.

 

The door rang. Junmyeon looked up at his living room door since he couldn’t see his entrance hall from here. He looked for a few seconds. He hadn’t invited Minseok in. He hadn’t ordered anything. His mom usually called before coming. It could be Minseok still. He stood up, turned the radio off, and went to open the door.

 

The hallway lights were harsh and artificial on Baekhyun’s smile when he opened the door. Or maybe it was the strain of Baekhyun’s mouth that was harsh and artificial. Junmyeon looked at the black plastic bag he was holding up in front of him. Baekhyun shook his hand and clunking could be heard.

 

"Beer partner?" he asked and his voice sounded so different from earlier. No joy. No cheer. Just a tremble at the end of his last word.

 

Junmyeon opened the door wider and let him in. 

 

For once, there was no conversation between them. Baekhyun put the bag on the table and with a silent gesture, asked Junmyeon if he could push it away. Junmyeon nodded and went to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of pickled radish, two bags of chips. When he came back, the table was pushed towards the television set and there were six cans of beer on the floor. Baekhyun was sitting cross-legged on the floor. It looked like the couch was crushing him.

 

He wasn’t looking around. That was what people usually did when they entered an unfamiliar place. He was only looking down at where his fingers hung limp in the hollow between his legs. 

 

This was an unfamiliar situation. Junmyeon didn’t drink beer on weekdays, unless he was with Minseok. Junmyeon didn’t drink beer with strangers or neighbors. Baekhyun felt like neither. They were on the floor, but Baekhyun felt just enough to fill in the second cushion of his couch, the spot for a second person. His couch could fit three people, maybe even four if squeezed in. Junmyeon wasn’t enough to fill in even a quarter of that space. Not even when stretching his body from one armrest to the other.

 

He drank beer. They drank beer. The radish remained untouched. Junmyeon opened up one bag of chips. He ate three and Baekhyun ate one. The television was turned off, the lights were turned on. Yellow. Mellow.

 

He didn’t mind. This was good. This was reassuring. He didn’t even look at Baekhyun but he was there. Someone was there, in this house, with him. 

 

Baekhyun opened up his second can. He spoke when Junmyeon puffed his cheeks with a big sip that he held in.

 

"We fought three days ago," he said, voice yellower, mellower than Junmyeon’s lights. He turned to look at him. He was looking at nothing. His mouth hung open, moved again. "You heard us, right?"

 

Selfish. _You only think about yourself. No, you only think about yourself. Why are you doing this to me Hyeran? What did I do wrong? What do you want from me? What the fuck do you want from me?_

 

"I did," Junmyeon said after swallowing what was in his mouth. Bitter.

 

Baekhyun took a sip, two, three. Cleared his throat. Junmyeon took a sip, looked, gazed. Waited. Stayed there and listened. Not out of habit.

 

"I bought her a gift today, to give her while apologizing. To try and fix things. Talk. It took me two hours to find something." A stop. Liquid sloshing. Choked, depreciative laughter followed by a cough. "I couldn’t remember what she liked. I remember what she liked a year ago, but now? Nothing. So I got her lipstick."

 

Baekhyun stopped again. Not for Junmyeon to say something. He didn’t say anything, continued looking, listening, gave Baekhyun the occasion to take a deep breath in, a break from what could be difficult to say.

 

"I got her lipstick," he said, tapping a fingernail against the rim of his can. "It was one called ‘Wifey’ on the aisle. I chose that one because, you know, she’s my wife," he said the word in english, accented. Another stop. Laughter again, slurred but strident, like a wail. His eyes were wide and his features tensed. "She told me she didn’t want to be that anymore. Wifey. Told me she was tired of being that. My wife. Didn’t accept it. Told me she wanted a divorce. The forms were already completed. Her handwriting. All of it. Everywhere. Meticulously. All I had left to do was sign it."

 

Junmyeon swallowed. He had no beer in his mouth. He put his can down. Pulled his legs against his chest. Hugged. 

 

"Did you?" he asked, pressing his lips together afterwards. His teeth pulled on his lower one, upper one, lower one again. 

 

Baekhyun sighed. More sound than air. He blinked up at the ceiling. Smiled. The corners of his lips were digging into his cheeks, piercing. They didn’t look bouncy. Rounded up but not bouncy. Pinched. Squeezed. No lips, just an elongated line. Not a smile. 

 

Junmyeon hugged his knees tighter.

 

"I did," Baekhyun said, nodding. Once, twice, as if to confirm. "I let go of the Wifey lipstick and signed the divorce papers." Two sips, two gulps, a hand rubbing at his cheek. Red lines down from the outer corner of his eyebrow to his jaw. Clawing. His shoulders shook. Laughter. Not really laughter. Junmyeon should laugh. The air in his chest was compressing on his heart. He should let it out. He couldn’t when Baekhyun looked like this. "Because what else was I supposed to do? I can’t revive a dead love. I can’t fight for something that I already lost. I signed."

 

Junmyeon stayed silent even when Baekhyun was done talking and continued drinking. He was used to listening. He wasn’t used to listening to this kind of heftiness, suffocation. He took a deep breath in, let go of his legs and stretched them out.

 

"I think you did the right thing," he said, a hushed sentence. Baekhyun looked like the lightest of breezes would blow him away and scatter him all over the city. "For her. For yourself."

 

"I think so too," Baekhyun said then laughed. Just the first part of a laugh. That first rush of air that necessitated energy to be prolonged into full joy. 

 

Junmyeon wanted to comfort him. He didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to lessen so much pain and broken dreams, a broken love, a broken family? Him? He couldn’t do that. He was much, much too small for that. Everyone was probably much, much too small to soothe that pain.

 

He wanted to comfort Baekhyun. Not because that was what Junmyeon did. Listening and comforting. Because Baekhyun had comforted him so many times. Just by smoking with him, talking with him, reminding Junmyeon that he wasn’t alone. That people could see him. Strangers could see him.

 

He didn’t know how to.

 

Baekhyun sighed and rubbed his face again, this time harder, longer, sinking his fingers into his cheek, pulling at his mouth, tugging at his nose. He shook his head then and maybe he was drunk after two cans of beer, but his gaze was still limpid when he looked at Junmyeon.

 

"Anyway," he said, sniffling once and then once again. Junmyeon grabbed his beer again and drank. Baekhyun waited for him to lean the can against his thigh to speak. "I’m tired of talking about sad shit. How was your day?"

 

Junmyeon looked at him for a blank moment. Baekhyun looked back at him, eyelids heavy and soft-looking.

 

"It was great," he settled on saying after a moment of thinking that always, always led to the same exact answer.

 

"Great?" Baekhyun repeated with another laugh. Different, this time. Weak but not as forced. He hummed then. "Let me ask another way. What did you do today?"

 

Another blank moment. Junmyeon couldn’t remember. He had done nothing memorable. But Baekhyun was expecting an answer, looking at him, not even drinking his beer anymore.

 

"Uh," he stalled, rubbing a hand over his thigh. "I woke up. This morning."

 

"That’s great," Baekhyun said, nodding. Junmyeon expected that response to be mocking but it wasn’t. Just encouraging. That’s great. That was what Baekhyun had said in that phonecall with a listener earlier, when the guy had a hard time talking. "What else?"

 

Junmyeon thought for a moment. For a long moment.

 

"I ate a bowl of rice for breakfast. Then I went to work. Then I came back here. Smoked."

 

That was all. All he could remember. All he found worth mentioning.

 

Baekhyun stayed silent. Smiled at him, faint. Looked away. Brought his legs up against his chest and extended an arm in front of him, supporting it on a knee, can of beer hanging in front of him, in his hold.

 

Was it disappointing? Junmyeon’s day? It was too short. Pathetically so.

 

"You know," Baekhyun suddenly spoke again, pulling Junmyeon’s gaze up from the hole in his can to his face again. He was looking at nothing again, straight ahead of himself. "I’m married but my day sounds exactly the same as yours. Lonely. So damn lonely."

 

Lonely.

 

Junmyeon put his can down on the floor. The thud reverberated in his chest. Clenched, stuffed him whole. Crowded inside of him and made him unable to hear anything but that word, in Baekhyun’s shivering voice.

 

Lonely.

 

That was when he should say something. Console.

 

Lonely.

 

Junmyeon had never heard it. The fact that he was lonely. No one had ever said it out loud, diagnosed him. Not even himself.

 

He said nothing. Junmyeon stayed there, and said nothing.

 

He opened up his second can by the time Baekhyun had already started his third. He stuffed his mouth with chips when Baekhyun started throwing radishes in his mouth, only stopping to munch on everything noisily when his cheeks were full. Junmyeon didn’t mind. He hated hearing himself eat. He liked hearing someone else eating next to him.

 

They didn’t talk a lot. It didn’t really matter. Baekhyun wasn’t here to talk and Junmyeon didn’t feel like he was sitting there to listen. They were just being together. 

 

The only time they talked was when Baekhyun scolded Junmyeon in a teasing voice weakened by the end of his day, scolded him about listening to his rival radio show. That was apparently the one Junmyeon had been listening to when he had rang the bell. He must’ve stood there for a long time. It wasn’t even the same time slot as his show, it was much later, but Baekhyun still considered the show a rival of his. Even if he was the only one to apparently, at the station.

 

They finished their cans. One was left unopened. Junmyeon didn’t want it. Baekhyun looked too far away to even notice there was one more can he could drink.

 

When he stood up, it was with a bit of of a stumble. He caught himself on the couch, fingers sinking into the cushiness. Junmyeon wished they would leave a permanent mark, so that side of the couch would look less unused. Junmyeon gave him the last unopened can, for another day. 

 

In front of the door, he hugged Junmyeon, patted his back a bit too feebly and then a bit too strongly. He pulled away, looked at Junmyeon.

 

"It was nice being lonely with you," he slurred, voice sounding wide open, enough for sincerity to drip out. Exhaustion too.

 

Junmyeon swore Baekhyun’s eyes were watery when he let go of him and left.

 

He swore his own eyes were watery when he closed them and let his bed sink him down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon spent the next day worrying about Baekhyun.

 

It wasn’t anything unusual. Junmyeon spent his entire life worrying about everyone but himself. But Baekhyun in particular. Junmyeon felt bad. He couldn’t help but feel like he was going through a divorce himself. It was terrible.

 

He didn’t catch a single glimpse of Baekhyun that day. It was a bad day. Mr. Yoo had taken them out to lunch but hadn’t truly allowed them to eat. It wasn’t polite to eat while the Branch Manager was speaking. He didn’t stop speaking. Enumerating their faults. Criticizing. Repeating the same things they had all heard over and over again. Next week was crucial. They had to climb back up to third place in the branch ranking.

 

On his way back, Junmyeon caught the end of Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy. A fitting name, he couldn’t help but think every time. But not today.

 

Today, Baekhyun’s closing narration was about noxious love. Two people who loved each other but weren’t good for each other. Two people who’d loved and loved and worn out both the feeling and each other. Two people who couldn’t recognize each other anymore after a while, couldn’t look at each other anymore. Two people. His parting gift was Heize’s _Didn’t Know Me_.

 

Not for the first time, Junmyeon wondered how much Baekhyun had to do with the production of  the show and its content. He knew most of the narrations on radio shows were scripted but still, it was fitting. He had sounded heartbroken. Heart-wrenching. Junmyeon felt a wrench in his chest because he had never experienced that. His life was too ordinary.

 

It had been raining all day. He had been holding his umbrella each time he stepped outside. It hadn’t happened a lot. He snapped a picture of the streetlamp reflected on a puddle in front of his apartment building.

 

He felt tired. After a warm shower, a warm cup of tea, a warm bowl of ramyeon with a fancy fried egg on top, he still felt tired. He crashed on his bed but it felt like his bed had crashed on his tiny body. Added weight. He felt so tiny. Being home tired him out even more. He had to crowd all the empty space by himself. It was draining him out.

 

He turned on the radio. Went into the living room. Looked around. It was dark. The lights were on. It was too dark. The smoke stains on the white walls glorified the gloominess of his home even more. He turned off the radio. Made himself another cup of tea.

 

His mother called, at some point. Junmyeon never called. She did. Always. 

 

First, she complained a little about his lack of contact. Then, they talked. About her, what his father was doing, what Junmyeon was doing. She passed the phone to his father. Junmyeon laughed at his lame jokes as he complained about his mom. They had the same exact sense of humor. He talked more with his mother. She asked him about food, if he’d like her to send in anything, bring in anything. Junmyeon refused. He had enough money to order take out every night and still pay his rent. She didn’t need to cook more than usual and tire herself out. He promised he’d come to dinner soon. Someday.

 

He promised despite the guilt and the knowledge that it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. They were living just a few kilometers apart, long minutes apart, but he still felt like continents were separating them. And continents did separate them. Junmyeon’s sexual orientation might be a problem as huge as an entire continent to them. He didn’t know. They never showed any sign of hate towards homosexuality. They never really had the occasion to. They didn’t even pressure him for marriage either. 

 

His parents had never liked pressuring him for anything besides his health. He didn’t know if they’d start pressuring him if he were to confess. He never tried to find out. Never even thought about telling them. He wouldn’t ever tell them. It had always been out of the question. Would always be out of the question.

 

And he felt guilty. He was their son. They didn’t even know him. The true him. It was better this way. Nothing shattered this way.

 

Except maybe Junmyeon’s own body. He felt smaller with each passing day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The terrible handwriting on the sketchbook looked too out of place amidst cans of beer, dried out pizza slices from yesterday, ash spilled on the table, and three black lighters. 

 

Junmyeon opened up his memories and looked at what his childhood had drawn inside. He didn’t remember drawing all the chibis characters as he turned the pages, only recognized a few of them, his neighbor’s cat, all of H.O.T.’s members, the teacher he used to dislike, his favorite teacher.

 

He often looked inside. He had drawn his neighbor’s kid just a few weeks ago. He didn’t even remember his state of mind when he had drawn a missing tooth and a bunny one, fat tears on the corners of his eyes.

 

He grabbed his pencil and stared at the same page. He had doodled a bit around the kid’s chibis but there was so much room for him to cram in. He pressed the tip of the pencil on the page and let his fingers slide down to it. Grabbed the pencil from its rubbered end and slid down to the tip again. And again.

 

Junmyeon still didn’t know how to draw himself. 

 

Maybe dark circles. Wrinkles he couldn’t see but could feel on his face. A polite smile. Big ears to listen to problems. He didn’t feel like drawing that. He didn’t.

 

Instead, he drew his dad, held the sketchbook up by leaning it against a bottle of stale coke, pushed an unopened can of beer towards it, drank from his own, and ate his ham sandwich.

 

He knew how to cook. Wasn’t the best cook on earth, was far from his mother’s skills, but still knew how to cook decent meals. He could follow recipes he found on the internet and rarely failed them. But he didn’t do it. Cooking for one person was meaningless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He still didn’t see Baekhyun even when he smoked on his balcony. He got out into the backyard for a second cigarette. Still nothing.

 

He missed today’s radio show because of the hoesik, couldn’t catch neither the beginning nor the end of it. Though, he supposed the radio show wasn’t a good way for Junmyeon to know how Baekhyun truly felt. He never let the emotions Junmyeon used to hear through the walls transpire in-between his interviews or diversified narrations. Still, he wondered if Radio Baekhyun was the Real Baekhyun. Yesterday, he had listened to him interview a cook and he was so encouraging, the same way he had been when he asked Junmyeon about his day.

 

When he had came back home from the noraebang earlier, he had seen a man getting out of Baekhyun’s apartment. He had sighed at the door he had just closed then smiled politely at Junmyeon. He had looked approachable, around their age, and had a wedding band on his ring finger.

 

Of course Baekhyun had friends. He didn’t know why that came as a surprise. Normal people had friends, more than one friend. He didn’t know why it made him sad either. He only had Minseok. And they hadn’t talked in a week because Junmyeon didn’t have the energy to communicate with anyone, make a short phone call or type a short text.

 

He was sad because it felt nice to be lonely with Baekhyun from time to time. He hadn’t had anyone to be lonely with for the past week. Junmyeon had gotten used to smoking with Baekhyun, talking to Baekhyun, hearing Baekhyun through the wall. Even that didn’t happen anymore. Not that it was a bad thing.

 

Junmyeon was very worried. He was very lonely. He wished he had someone to be lonely with more often.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun had talked about self-care on the radio once. Junmyeon remembered that day exactly. Last Thursday. Baekhyun’s radio shows were the only thing he remembered about each of his days. The rest meshed together. Except for appointments with clients, Junmyeon couldn’t locate if he had done a certain thing Monday or Wednesday. Everything was the same. Nothing changed.

 

Junmyeon hadn't taken a bath in years. Showers were quicker. Baekhyun had made baths sound appealing, had even gotten a guest to talk about it with. A young woman who had just started her hand-made bath bombs business. Baekhyun apparently did a young entrepreneurship corner once in a while.

 

Even full with bubbles, his bathtub felt empty. It was too big. Just like his bed. He wished there was someone on the other side.

 

He played with the bubbles, crushing them between his fingers. He wished someone would fall in in love with him already. He trickled water down his neck, letting the warmth appease him. When would that happen? He raised a leg until his toes peeked at him from the other side of the tub. It wouldn’t happen if he stayed home all weekend. But if he were to go out, what would he even talk about besides that fake loan scandal one of their rival banks was going through? He sank in the water until bubbles bearded his chin.

 

He wondered if Baekhyun took baths. Or maybe he was more of a shower kind of person, like Junmyeon. He missed his lonely friend.

 

Junmyeon hadn’t had a new friend in years. An actual new friend. It was always the same new young interns at the bank. Baekhyun was a friend. One Junmyeon had made all on his own. With the contribution of dysfunctional lighters and noxious smokes.

 

He snapped a picture of the rainbow on that one big bubble amidst the crowd of smaller, duller, tinier ones. He got out of the bath, dried himself, kept his bathrobe on. Getting dressed took too much effort on a Sunday evening.

 

He scrolled through Instagram, replied to a comment Minseok had dropped three days ago on one of his pictures, liked the other comments from colleagues and acquaintances, random people here and there. He opened up his DeviantArt account again, scrolled more through drawings he had created himself and had seen dozens, hundreds of times in the past year.  He wondered what his life would’ve been like if he had tried harder in his youth. If he had continued drawing, if he had practiced more, if he had chosen a different path in school. Not necessarily art, just something else. Something completely random. Like languages, medicine, cinematography, maybe something to do with broadcasting. Maybe he would’ve achieved more.

 

He wasn’t that old. It felt like he had already reached the end of his life but hadn’t accomplished anything yet. Like being someone’s lover. 

 

It was pathetic to put love at the center of his life. Perhaps wrong. But he had nothing else to aim for. His life wasn’t that miserable. Bland, perhaps, but not unbearable in a physical way. His job paid well, he had enough savings to move out of this apartment if he wanted to, he had one amazing friend that was like family and would still be after months of lost contact. There was nothing that made it difficult for him to live. Nothing that Junmyeon could point at without someone being able to tell him they had it worse, probably.

 

Junmyeon had everything.

 

All there was missing was someone looking into his eyes and telling him every day that he was loved.

 

It felt like he had nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Maybe you could ask for a transfer?"

 

Junmyeon hummed, adjusting the phone against his ear as he shoved his other hand inside his coat’s pocket, away from the hunger of the evening wind.

 

"I’m too used to working there for that," he snorted, shaking his head at himself. He sighed. "It would feel like betrayal too. I don’t want to leave everyone there and go on my own."

 

He heard Minseok sigh on the other end of the line. That breezy sound that blended  exasperation and fondness. Not perfectly, the second ingredient always overpowered the first. He didn’t like how loyal Junmyeon could be. Sometimes, Junmyeon didn’t either.

 

"But you hate working there."

 

Junmyeon pursed his lips. Pulled his hand out of his pocket. Pulled the sleeve of his coat further over his other hand to protect it from the cold as it held the phone. Put his hand back in.

 

"I don’t really," he admitted, looking around to find someplace he could get takeout from. "Female employees have it worse there."

 

"I could come in and hit your boss, if you want," Minseok offered with the most serious voice he could probably conjure and Junmyeon burst into a fit of chuckles, the first of them snorty.

 

"We’re not in middle school," he chided the other, even though the smile lingered on his face as he took a left turn towards the pojangmacha on the way to his apartment.

 

A man holding a briefcase bigger than Junmyeon’s walked past him in quick steps. Junmyeon watched him run the last few steps into the curtained restaurant.

 

"If we were together in middle or high school, I would’ve beaten up whoever annoyed you."

 

"Thank you but I was very much loved by everyone," Junmyeon snorted, even though he was a little flattered to hear that.

 

And he knew it was true. Minseok would’ve done just that. But they hadn’t met until college.

 

Junmyeon had enrolled only after completing his military service, it had seemed like the most logical order to things. He had met Minseok there, the other lone guy who sat at the back of the room in each class. They had always kept a spare seat in-between them. One day, that seat had just disappeared. And then, Minseok had decided that economics weren’t for him at all and dropped out to go complete his military service instead. 

 

Junmyeon had decided that he wasn’t that much enthusiastic about working at a bank either anymore, only a few months into his first year. But he had stayed, because he didn’t know what he would’ve done had he dropped out mid-year. And then he had stayed more, because if had completed one year, he might’ve completed the whole degree as well. It had gotten him a job and Junmyeon truly wasn’t that unhappy with it.

 

He stood near the pojangmacha and talked to Minseok a little more. Junmyeon didn’t always like talking on the phone but when he did, he had a hard time letting go of the voice in his ears, so close to him. They talked about that problem in one of the machines at the gym, about what they should eat next time they see each other. They laughed about one of the interns at the bank, one who had almost broken the printer today. 

 

They hung up soon after and Junmyeon sighed in contentment. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough but it was okay.

 

He went into the restaurant and the owner recognized him, greeting him enthusiastically. Junmyeon told her he wouldn’t eat here today but that he’d love to take out some jajjangmyeon. She quickly got to preparing it. Junmyeon sat down while waiting, drinking the glass of water she served him. He scrolled, scrolled, scrolled on his phone, and she put a full bag in front of him on the table. Three servings. One for tonight. One for tomorrow. One for the day after tomorrow. Junmyeon would be too tired to cook. He knew it in advance.

 

Leaving the laughter and conversation between the red curtains, he got out. Laughter around him, on the way to his apartment. Laughter billowing out of a window opened above as Junmyeon stood in front of the entrance. Junmyeon didn’t feel it inside, the joy he heard in that sound.

 

He stood there, sighed, hooked the takeout bag on his wrist, and reached for his inside pocket. He pushed the lid of his pack open and frowned. He only had one cigarette left. He shook the pack a little, watching the stick collide with the lighter inside. When had he smoked them? He couldn’t recall.

 

Junmyeon grabbed it, lit it, and smoked it, body flopping against the wall. His first drag felt like deliverance. He swung the take out bag a little, keeping himself occupied by watching it move against his leg. His second drag was relief. The streetlight on the other side of the parking lot was still flickering. By the third drag, Junmyeon was numbed. He rested his head back against the wall. It was dirty. He had to shower tonight. It felt like such a gigantic thing to do.

 

He blew smoke out, watching it spread from a thin string to a ghastly puff. When it scattered around, carried away, Junmyeon saw Baekhyun.

 

He looked small. Approaching, hands shoved in the pockets of a coat that engulfed his entire upper body. It had been less than two weeks since the last time Junmyeon had seen him, but he looked frailer. Junmyeon blew smoke away from the sight, turning his head. It felt like the smoke was denser than Baekhyun, might eat him whole, hide him away.

 

Today’s closing narration had been about finding happiness in every little thing. Baekhyun’s head was tilted down, gaze splattered on the floor as he walked, shoulders hunched. He didn’t seem to find happiness where he was looking.

 

He stopped a few steps away from Junmyeon, raised his head. It had been so long but Junmyeon didn’t feel like a stranger was looking at him. He dusted ash off his cigarette, looked back at Baekhyun, waiting, silent, unsure, a little happy to be seeing his new friend in one piece.

 

Baekhyun’s gaze was slowly dragged down to the bag Junmyeon was holding.

 

"Oh," he said, quiet but croaky enough for Junmyeon to hear the sound. "I forgot about that."

 

Junmyeon looked at him. Just kept looking at him. His scarf was hiding away half of his face. It wasn’t thicker than the layer of loneliness shrouding Baekhyun.

 

That. That, Junmyeon felt it inside. The loneliness. 

 

"We can share," was the solution Junmyeon offered to Baekhyun’s problem.

 

For the first time ever, he wasn’t sure what he offered was for the other person’s benefit. It felt like it was for his own.

 

Baekhyun looked back up to Junmyeon’s face. Attempted a smile. Junmyeon couldn’t see it. Not because his scarf was hiding it. Then, he looked down again, this time at the cigarette secured between Junmyeon’s fingers.

 

"Can we share more than dinner?" he said in a sigh. He didn’t really sigh. His voice just felt both as heavy and light as a breath.

 

Junmyeon understood. He raised his hand, holding the cigarette out to him. Baekhyun stepped forward and took it.

 

"We can share the loneliness too," Junmyeon said, empty hand dropping to his side, limp.

 

Baekhyun’s eyes closed as he took the first drag of half a cigarette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon put his empty can of beer down on the floor, looked at the table pushed against the television set.

 

Baekhyun was already on his second can. They had eaten in silence, started drinking in silence, Junmyeon had finished drinking in silence, and Baekhyun kept drinking in the same silence.

 

The quietude wasn’t bothersome. Just a presence. That was enough. More than enough. 

 

But he still wondered, worried, so he looked at Baekhyun, at the steady yet aimless gaze, the fingers tight around the can, the knees almost resting under his chin, legs against his chest.

 

"How have you been?" Junmyeon asked, maybe a stupid question, but a question that he wished someone would ask him more often, possibly every single night.

 

Baekhyun turned to him for a moment, blank, unmoving, not really here. He blinked, once, twice, and looked straight ahead of himself again. He was here now.

 

"I’ve just." He shook his head, took a deep breath in that raised his shoulders and then let them crash down lower than before. "Been."

 

Junmyeon nodded even if Baekhyun wasn’t looking at him anymore. That seemed like a good enough answer. One Junmyeon could understand.

 

He reached for the pack of cigarettes lying on the floor, next to him, and ripped the film off carefully. He heard Baekhyun gulp on his beer right when he sucked in the first tainted gulp of air.

 

Silence. A gulp. A drag. Someone laughed outside. A gulp. A drag. Solace.

 

"You can smoke here," Junmyeon said, looking at him again.

 

It was stupid. He was smoking. Baekhyun could see that Junmyeon didn’t mind smoking inside. But he wanted to say something. He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to talk to Baekhyun.

 

"Right." Baekhyun’s voice fell flat between them. A gulp. Smoke slithered between them. "I can do that now. Smoking inside the house. I didn’t realize."

 

Junmyeon couldn’t really see him no matter how much he looked at him. There was nothing to see on his face. Nothing besides numbness. The sight numbed him too. Without any sound, he put his pack on the floor, between them. Then, he put the lighter right on top, and the ashtray next to it.

 

"Here," Junmyeon said, a hush, coaxing, hopefully cajoling. 

 

When it came down to it, smoking too much was better than drinking too much. A disintegrating body was better than a deteriorating mind. Baekhyun drank too much. He feared Baekhyun would drink more.

 

It took a few seconds but Baekhyun put his beer down and grabbed the pack instead.

 

Smoke and smoke. Junmyeon breathed it in. It wasn’t only his nose. He breathed it in easily.

 

"What about you?" Baekhyun said after a while, turning to him, voice hoarse and features scrunched as he spoke with a choked voice, before blowing smoke out through his nose. Junmyeon stared, still as fascinated as the first time he had seen that happen. "How have you been?"

 

He shrugged. "I’ve just been," he repeated Baekhyun’s words, stopped, and then added, "great." That suited him better.

 

Baekhyun snorted. An ugly sound. Not an ugly intention behind it though, Junmyeon figured.

 

"I’m glad then," he said and Junmyeon looked at him, a bit surprised that Baekhyun had accepted his answer so easily when he hadn’t at any other occasion before tonight. He figured Baekhyun couldn’t care about how anyone else felt at the moment. 

 

Junmyeon dusted ash off into the tray and Baekhyun covered it with his own ashes. Silence. Not uncomfortable. Encouraging.

 

"I didn’t get out of the house for a week," Baekhyun said then, gaze still hollow but voice a little less dead. He frowned. "Or maybe two weeks." He frowned more, turned to Junmyeon. "How long has it been?"

 

Junmyeon hummed. "Around ten days." He wasn’t sure, but it sounded about right. "You’ve been to the radio station though."

 

"That’s work." The skeleton of a smile, wonky. "I had to."

 

Junmyeon could understand that. The professionalism, the strength it took to do that.

 

"Besides that, I didn’t get out of the house," he continued, raised a hand to scratch at his temple, cigarette dangerously close to his hair. He lowered it again. "Woke up, stayed in, went to work, came back in, stayed in, woke up, went to work, came back," he enumerated, hand moving to the left then to the right, to the left then to the right, to the left then to the right. Constant. Steady. Unchanging. Monotonous. Like a pendulum that forgot it was even swinging after a while.

 

It sounded just like Junmyeon’s days. For the past year. The past years. The past. Forever?

 

He took in a deep breath, cleared his throat. He circled the bump of his knee with a single finger, took a drag of his cigarette when Baekhyun did.

 

"Some people might feel better when surrounded with friends or family in this kind of situation," Junmyeon chanced, a solution to a problem he didn’t know how to solve.

 

Baekhyun crinkled his nose. Footsteps under Junmyeon’s balcony. The door was closed, he could still hear them. Always.

 

"No. I wanted to be alone." His voice sounded stronger now. Not like an echo anymore. Like a replenishing. Determination in the nod that went on for a moment too long. "I wanted to prove myself that I could live in that house. Survive in that house. Without her." A stop. A miserable laugh. He rubbed the sole of his palm against an eye. His eyelids still looked soft. "It’s stupid, we lived there together for barely three months but it was still our home. Now, it’s just my house."

 

A house. Junmyeon knew that difference too. A home should be made of more than one person. Right now, this place felt like home. A temporary one. 

 

Junmyeon hated himself just a little for taking advantage of this situation. Baekhyun’s sadness, his loneliness. The fact that maybe he’d seek for a friend and that right now, Junmyeon seemed to be the nearest friend he could find.

 

"How was it then?" Junmyeon asked, gathering his legs against his chest and resting his cheek on his knee, head turned towards Baekhyun. "Living there alone?"

 

"Terrible," was Baekhyun’s instant reply. " I wanted to get out of there so badly. But I also wanted to prove it to myself. I guess I was too stubborn. She always said I was too stubborn," he said, voice petering out to a whisper by the end of his sentence.

 

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. He was done. Baekhyun drank too quickly. Smoked too quickly. Or maybe it was Junmyeon who was too slow. But Baekhyun didn’t grab his unfinished beer either. He slumped back against the couch and stretched his legs in front of him, hands dropping on his lap.

 

He wanted to say something. Junmyeon didn’t know what to say. He thought, for a long moment, looking at the darkness shadowing Baekhyun’s under-eyes, the lines on his forehead and his frown, revealed when he brushed his hair up and let his hand fall back down. Ripped jeans. Still ripped jeans.

 

Junmyeon thought about what he would’ve liked to hear. About what he would like to hear. What would make him happier. What had made him just a little relieved.

 

"I’m proud of you for surviving," he said, voice falling to an intimate whisper. Or maybe only half of his voice managed to come out of the tight ring locked inside his throat. Baekhyun’s words from that first radio show. He still thought about them sometimes, still heard them in his head.

 

Baekhyun looked at him. Smiled. Not a full smile but a tightlipped one, eyebrows raised, eyes just a little shiny. Not the good, happy kind of shiny. The shiny that came out of a tight throat and a burn in the eyes. 

 

"Thank you," he said, his last word barely even carried to Junmyeon’s ears. He still heard it distinctly.

 

Half of his smile was cut off where his cheek was pressed against his knee. He crushed the end of his cigarettes in the tray and hugged his legs with both arms. Silence. Junmyeon didn’t mind. He hated silence on his own. He liked silence with someone. He had missed this. They had only drank together once. He had still missed this. A presence. Someone.

 

Baekhyun was the one to scatter the quietude away.

 

"Remember when you talked like a love expert?" 

 

Junmyeon laughed, small but real.

 

"Yeah," he said, straightening away from his knees to talk properly. "I guess that was a failure." Bitterness. Just a little bit. He hated feeling useless.

 

"No," Baekhyun said, as firm as the shake of his head. He took a long, deep breath in. "It helped. You told me to tell her I love her, to remind her, to remember. Since then, I had many occasions to do it. So many. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t just open my mouth and tell her I love you." A tremble in his voice at those words. Junmyeon felt it in his chest. "It just wouldn’t get out of me. And I realized, maybe it didn’t get out of me because it wasn’t in me anymore. It just wasn’t."

 

Junmyeon gulped down. It was difficult to listen to that. Baekhyun’s voice was so raw, it sounded so close to him. Closer than when Junmyeon listened to it in his earphones, when it directly seeped into his skull. This wasn’t a narration. This was Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun closed his eyes, laughed. It sounded pained. It sounded painful to Junmyeon. Just a little bit. He didn’t look away. Knowing that someone was looking at you, _seeing_ you helped.

 

"I guess love truly dies, huh?" Baekhyun asked, maybe to Junmyeon, maybe to himself, maybe to the ceiling. Maybe to the woman he had once loved.

 

Junmyeon didn’t know. Junmyeon sometimes didn’t even remember that love was part of life.

 

But what he knew was that—

 

"Your love might have died, but you haven’t. You’re here," he said, unwavering, sure, drawing Baekhyun’s gaze to him. It was a sad one. Junmyeon still didn’t look away. "Maybe you can’t notice it now. But you’re still here." It felt like he was looking into the mirror and not at his lonely neighbor. "Even without her."

 

Baekhyun gazed at him for a while, with the strain on his features, the exhausted puffs of air crashing from his parted lips, his fingers tugging at the hole in his jeans. He ripped one white shred, looked down at it, let go. It was still hanging onto the piece of clothing, the other side was still intact. He met Junmyeon’s gaze again and it all unraveled. A smile, as ephemeral as streams of smoke, but a smile.

 

"I’m here. Still," he said, reaching for his unfinished can of bear and bumping its bottom against Junmyeon’s empty can on the floor. He downed the whole of it after that little cheer, then crushed it in his hand, looked back up at Junmyeon, gaze a little glossier. Maybe from the alcohol, maybe not. "And I’m glad you’re here too."

 

Junmyeon smiled. He stayed there, with Baekhyun, and smiled.

 

When Baekhyun left a little later, there was no drunken hug this time. Just another thank you, another grateful smile. Junmyeon felt it on his own face. 

 

There was no hug but he felt even closer to Baekhyun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Yoo wasn’t in his office when Junmyeon went in. He stood in the empty room for a few seconds before sighing, arms dropping to his side, documents held tight in his hand. Of course, it would’ve been surprising if the man had been there before noon.

 

He looked down at the documents, pursed his lips, and got out of the office to head towards the Vice Manager’s instead. When he knocked, a voice answered him on the other side this time. Junmyeon opened the door, bowed, closed it behind him, and moved closer to Mr. Kim’s desk and his welcoming smile.

 

"Good morning," he greeted him first, bowing again. "Do you perhaps know if the Branch Manager will come in today?"

 

The man put his pen down, loosened his already crooked tied, and shook his head.

 

"He won’t be coming in today. He called in to say that he had," he paused to drum his fingers once on the table, "private matters to attend."

 

That chop in his sentence was enough for Junmyeon to understand it was an excuse given to Mr. Kim himself.

 

Junmyeon nodded in acceptance and gestured to the documents he was holding.

 

"Would you perhaps mind signing these for him?" he asked, giving the man an apologetic smile. "It’s about the loan of one of our VIP clients and it’s a bit urgent."

 

"Sure, bring it here," he said, nodding to his desk and gesturing Junmyeon to come closer.

 

Junmyeon was only a little relieved as he handed him the documents and watched him ink his signature on the bottom of each page. He hadn’t hesitated or stressed about being rejected in the first place. Sometimes, he wished Mr. Kim would come up with a ploy to kick Mr. Yoo out of the bank and take his position. 

 

"You’ve been working here for quite some time, Junmyeon-ssi, haven’t you?" he asked, gaze still trained on the documents he was signing.

 

Usually, that kind of sentence would sound threatening, maybe worrisome. But it didn’t. The Vice Branch Manager had acted casual and familiar around not only Junmyeon but the rest of the employees more than enough times for Junmyeon to know this was just small conversation. The man was kind and professional, barely even profited from the fact that his family was close to the Branch Manager’s. He only played that card to avoid attending the weekly hoesik.

 

"Seven years, Mr. Kim," Junmyeon replied, watching a smile spread on the man’s face as he turned another page.

 

"Thank you for working here for so long and bearing with everything," he said, surprising Junmyeon whose eyes widened as he looked from the man’s hands to his face. The smile was gone but it reappeared when he put his pen back down and looked at Junmyeon. "This bank would probably be a mess without you."

 

That wasn’t true. Junmyeon was just an average employee. He didn’t do anything special, just watched himself and worked hard to earn his money. Occasionally, he lent ears and advice to other employees but that wasn’t anything heroic.

 

Still. He bit his lower lip to contain his grin and kept his stance polite rather than overjoyed.

 

"I’m only working as hard as anyone else," he said, shaking his head and stepping forward to take the documents when Mr. Kim handed them back to him. "But thank you for seeing me as such," he smiled, not too big, and bowed again.

 

"I hope all your efforts will be recompensed one day," Mr. Kim smiled with a faint nod before tapping his hand on the desk with a quiet but final motion. "Now, go back to your post before Jaehwan starts panicking and messing up. You can’t leave him alone for too long, he’s worse than the interns."

 

Junmyeon laughed at that, hearty. He was right.

 

He left with another bow and the rest of his day was spent in a relatively good mood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It disappeared when he reached home.

 

He had caught Baekhyun’s show almost from the beginning. Everyone had discharged a little after 4PM, their official closing time, since Mr. Yoo wasn’t there to make them work overtime and keep them more than necessary.

 

He had listened to Baekhyun’s voice on the way to the subway, while standing inside, on the way to his apartment, while grabbing something to eat from the convenience store, and while lounging on his couch, drawing someone he made up in his mind.

 

But the show ended. Always with heartfelt words, a caring voice, one that made Junmyeon shudder and then recoil into himself because it was a nice voice but it seemed to peel layers off Junmyeon until he reached bare vulnerability.

 

_Have you eaten yet? Don’t forget to eat. Look around you. You’re not alone. You’ll be okay. Take a break, don’t be okay for a while. You’ll be okay again._

 

Parting gift. Monogram’s _For You_. Another nice song. Junmyeon had discovered so many nice songs thanks to Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy. He had inhaled the aroma of joy and alleviation so many times thanks to him. 

 

But now, it was silent. He had turned the radio off. Other shows, other voices had lost their appeal. He didn’t know why. He wished they hadn’t.

 

Junmyeon found himself wishing these words were uttered for him, and only for him.

 

He ate, drank tea. He could barely feel anything in his mouth. He cleaned around his bedroom a little bit, shoved clothes into his closet, took the smelly and stained ones to his laundry basket. He did only half of the work. It was exhausting. He dropped on his bed. It wasn’t comfortable. His blanket was rolled into a ball under him, his bed was never made. He didn’t move to adjust himself into a better position. It demanded too much energy he didn’t have.

 

He got up, went to the living room, the balcony, smoked, then went to the kitchen. He thought about calling his mom. He still felt a little hungry so he cooked more. He burned his fried rice, threw it, and didn’t start over.

 

He went to the bathroom, undressed, and took a hot shower. The burn on his skin was satisfying. Then, he accidentally dropped his bottle of shampoo and the product splashed on his feet. He stayed there and watched the white of the product against the white of his bathtub dilute itself with water. He didn’t pick the bottle up for a while, just watched, head tilted down, arms limp, legs tired. He felt like a complete, utter failure.

 

He should do something. He really should do something. Something to fix his life. He didn’t even know what he should fix, where he should fix, what even needed some fixing. He finished showering and went to the kitchen. He made green tea and deluded himself into thinking that it was a good start, that it would fix a few things.

 

He couldn’t sleep. It was too silent. He kicked off his blanket and went to the living room. It was deafening, suffocating, eye-prickling. The silence. He turned the television on, laid down on his couch. No one was walking or talking outside. He could barely even hear the cars on the road a few meters away. He turned the television off.  These weren’t real voices.

 

Junmyeon curled up on his couch and hummed to himself until he fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He didn’t see Baekhyun until three days later but he looked just the same as the last time Junmyeon had seen him.

 

"We should stop smoking."

 

Junmyeon looked down at him from where he stood on his balcony. Baekhyun looked small. It wasn’t because Junmyeon was standing above him.

 

"I told myself the same thing hundreds of times before and so have you," Junmyeon laughed, watching Baekhyun bring his cigarette to his lips while continuously shifting from one foot to the other. It was the first time Baekhyun looked affected by the cold.

 

The living room lights were turned on, contrary to the last time they had been in this position, and he could see Baekhyun’s face this time. Not that there was anything much to see on that face. Junmyeon still appreciate the sight. Baekhyun wasn’t unattractive. It wasn’t the first time Junmyeon noticed it.

 

"Well, at least we’re getting closer to death together," Baekhyun shrugged, voice raising towards playfulness on his very last word.

 

Junmyeon snorted. "That’s gloomy," he noted, pressing an elbow on the guardrail and holding his chin in his hand.

 

"But less lonely with you," Baekhyun said. He puckered his lips and blew a thin line of smoke that weaved into thickness and then scattered around altogether. He smiled at Junmyeon, shadowed. "Even that. The gloominess."

 

Junmyeon grinned. It was nice to hear that. He was made of loneliness and isolation but he could still make things a little less lonely for someone. It was so nice to hear that.

 

He wanted to say something. Talk with Baekhyun. Have a conversation, instead of just listening to him. He didn’t know why he wanted to talk to Baekhyun, why he wanted to talk with someone at all, but he did. He spent a long moment just thinking about what he could say. Baekhyun remained silent. He always remained silent when Junmyeon was looking for something to say. He didn’t know whether Baekhyun was just that sensible to his interlocutor or if it was always just a  coincidence.

 

"I feel so stupid when I’m smoking next to a non-smoker," Junmyeon settled on saying, continuing the topic they had left off, fingers stuttering when he tapped ash off his cigarette. Baekhyun hummed, blowing smoke out through his nose, nodding. 

 

"I do too." Reassuring. "That’s why I stopped smoking when I’m with my friends. They don’t smoke."

 

"Yeah," Junmyeon said, bit his lips, lower, upper, then licked his lower one. "You’re there, destroying your health in front of a perfectly healthy person. Or at least, a person who has healthier lungs than you do and who probably thinks you’re stupid for smoking."

 

"I feel stupid when I’m smoking alone too," Baekhyun laughed, wind carrying away the faintness of the sound along with the smog of his words. He stopped, tilted his head, tucked the corners of his lips up into his cheeks. "We should smoke together more often."

 

And it was stupid. Such a stupid thing to schedule. They could do other things together, healthier things like taking a walk, eating vegetables, cleaning, putting on sheet masks like Minseok kept trying to do with him.

 

But Junmyeon still nodded. Smiled. Content.

 

Baekhyun blew smoke through his nose. Looked better. Appeased.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minseok had a knack for waking Junmyeon up too early on the weekend.

 

This was another one of those weekends. He sat up in his bed, the doorbell echoing in his head even if it wasn’t ringing in his apartment anymore. He dragged himself out of bed, pulled his sweatpants up from where they had ridden down. One leg of his sweatpants had also rolled up his calf but he didn’t touch it. It implied leaning down. Too much effort.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face to wake himself up, wondered what time it was, and opened the door.

 

It wasn’t Minseok.

 

It was someone lonelier, smaller, but brighter. Oddly brighter than the past three weeks. It was Baekhyun, holding a pot filled with soil against his stomach. Soil and onions. He could see onion heads peeking from the soil.

 

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Baekhyun asked but when Junmyeon finally managed to look up at his face from the onions, he didn’t look apologetic the same way he didn’t even sound so. He was biting on his lower lip and his cheeks were twitching a little. He was trying to hold in a smile.

 

Junmyeon looked down at himself. His hands shot up to his waistband when he noticed his sweatpants had ridden down too far again and he pulled them up, tying the strings. 

 

"Yes. Kinda," he slurred as he fumbled with the knot, looking up just in time to see Baekhyun laughing. Actually laughing. A small steam of sound, short-lived, but livelier than Junmyeon had ever heard him nonetheless.

 

"Sorry," he repeated, holding up the earthen pot between them. "I sacrificed your sleep for a healthy cause at least. Can I borrow your balcony?"

 

"Huh?" was the only thing Junmyeon could mutter after a blank second, blinking quickly to chase the sleepy haze away from his mind.

 

Baekhyun made a face, nodding down at his pot. "For my green onions."

 

Junmyeon looked down at it. Brought a hand up to rub at his eye and then pat down his hair - it was always crazy in the morning. Not as crazy as Junmyeon felt. He certainly did not see green onions in that pot.

 

Still, he took a step back and pulled the door open wider.

 

"Sure," he muttered, clearing his throat when that word sounded like a snapping twig. "You know where the balcony is, I guess it’s the same as your own house. I’ll just go wash up and wake up real quick."

 

"Thanks," Baekhyun chirped, stepping in and taking his slippers off at the entry. 

 

With quick steps, he scrambled towards the living room and Junmyeon’s body was dragged around by the rush of air to turn towards him. He stood there and watched Baekhyun disappear into the house.

 

He was different. He hadn’t seen him smile so big since their first few encounters. He was energetic, quick steps, and free voice. He didn’t look small. Junmyeon blinked, smiled big to himself, and closed the door. It would be a stretch to say that maybe Baekhyun was okay now. Maybe he was just progressing. Maybe it was just that he felt gloomier in the evenings and nights, that was always when they met. That was always when Junmyeon needed a friend the most.

 

But seeing Baekhyun so sunny in the morning wasn’t that bad either.

 

He quickly went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and tried making himself at least the slightest bit presentable. It had been a relief to hear Baekhyun laugh but still, Junmyeon didn’t want to make a clown out of himself either.

 

When he went to the balcony, clothes adjusted and crotch now hidden safely under his sweatpants, Junmyeon found Baekhyun crouched down in front of the pot he had placed on the right corner of the balcony.

 

"The sun hits the best here," he explained, looking at Junmyeon over his shoulder. His smile was smaller than earlier but not any less genuine. It was just a calm, faint shine on his mouth. 

 

Junmyeon stayed on the threshold, holding onto the window-frame. The balcony was small, perhaps not too small for two grown adults to stand on at the same time, but definitely too small for two grown adults who weren’t used to being physically close to each other.

 

"It looks nice there," Junmyeon said and despite the emptiness apparent in those word, they weren’t pronounced just for lack of anything else to say. It did look nice there. His balcony was entirely empty, had always been, but now, there was a pot of onions there. Not the best decoration, but still. It wouldn’t be just him standing on it anymore.

 

Baekhyun stood up then, after patting the rim of the pot, and turned to him with a shrug that jolted the corners of his lips up higher.

 

"I figured the sun would hit your balcony better than mine since mine’s on the other side of the building. I was right," he said, gesturing to the sunlight that had always felt like a grounding caress whenever Junmyeon didn’t want to leave his house. On those days, he started by standing on his balcony and breathing in the morning air. "Thanks for letting me use it. I’ll pay you back with organic green onions," Baekhyun said, leaning just a tad closer, the playfulness in his voice pushing him forward before he fell back down to the sole of his socked feet.

 

Junmyeon huffed a laugh out and gestured towards the pot.

 

"Green onions are gonna grow out of that?" he asked, perplexed. He didn’t know green onions could be grown like that. He didn’t know anything about gardening.

 

"Yep," Baekhyun said, voice cottony as his gaze when he looked back at the pot. The morning luminosity made his eyelids softer than usual, droopier. His eye-bags were also more prominent, darker. "I used to really like gardening when I lived with my parents. I still do. I can’t have an actual garden here but I figured a few years ago that I could grow green onions in a pot so I’ve been doing that. It makes me miss home a little less."

 

"I never had a garden," Junmyeon commented, pursing his lips, leaning the side of his body against the window-frame.

 

"I guess it’s easier to have a garden in Bucheon," Baekhyun said, crossing his arms against his chest. He was wearing a t-shirt, sleeveless. Junmyeon shuddered at the cold breeze.

 

"How does it work though?" he couldn’t help but ask, eyeing the pot curiously. "These look like actual onions. Not the kind of onions you plant to get green onions. The kind you just eat directly."

 

Though, up until today, Junmyeon had thought seeds were used for onions anyway. 

 

Baekhyun’s chuckle called back for his attention. Junmyeon raised his eyebrows and Baekhyun laughed again but this time, he waved his hands in front of him.

 

"I’m not making fun of you. You just sound so clueless and intrigued. Like you’re studying the onions," he said, to which Junmyeon couldn’t help but laugh at.

 

"I’m just trying to understand," he defended himself, words stretched out.

 

The wind blew again. Junmyeon didn’t mind. He felt nice . He felt in a good mood. The same way he was always in a good mood when his mornings started with Minseok waking him up.

 

"Well, I’ll explain to you. Listen well," Baekhyun said with perhaps a bit too much of mischief, considering Junmyeon was older than him, but he didn’t mind. It was fun. "When onions stay uneaten for too long, they start sprouting." He crouched down, all playfulness gone as he twirled a finger around the head of  one of the three onions. "That’s when a little green grows in here. These one aren’t sprouting yet but they’re probably close to, that’s why I planted them. When you plant them in soil, water them a little, and put them under the sun, the sprout can actually grow into edible green onions."

 

He explained that seriously, still crouched down and looking up at Junmyeon with wide eyes. It was a nice kind of serious, though. The kind that made Junmyeon figure Baekhyun really loved gardening. He looked down at his hands, his smooth fingers, the clean nail beds. The mole on his thumb. It looked like stain from the soil. Maybe Baekhyun didn’t have a green thumb, but a stained thumb.

 

"I really didn’t know it could work that way. I throw all my onions when they start sprouting," he admitted, feeling a little more enlightened about life now.

 

"Well, now you can give them to me and I’ll make green onions out of them," Baekhyun shrugged, tapping the pot as he laughed. Hehe. A literal hehe. "Right here."

 

Cute. Baekhyun was lonely in the evening, cute in the morning. Junmyeon liked his company at both times of the day.

 

"That’s great," Junmyeon said, smiling. "I’ll tax you on green onions. I like them."

 

Baekhyun jutted his lower lip out in a stinky-eyed grimace. "I already told you I’d give them to you. Why are you trying to give me green onion pressure?"

 

Junmyeon looked at him silently for a moment before bursting into laughter at his dramatically grumpy tone. Baekhyun joined in. It felt nice to hear someone laughing so close to him.

 

They got back inside soon after, after a few additional gardening facts. Junmyeon didn’t know it could be such an interesting topic but he actually had questions to ask about it.

 

"You’re really always messy like this, aren’t you?" was the first thing Baekhyun said when Junmyeon slid the balcony door closed.

 

He turned to him, seeing his hands holding onto his waist and the accusing frown allied to his, perhaps, amused smile.

 

Junmyeon still scrunched his features and let out an embarrassed, awkward chuckle.

 

"I usually don’t have the energy to clean around a lot," he admitted, looking around.

 

It really had been too long since the last time he had cleaned. There was too many things cluttered around, take out boxes, clothes, papers, and even empty grocery bags that had been full with snacks that never made it into the kitchen before he ate them.

 

"You could hire someone to clean for you," Baekhyun suggested easily but Junmyeon shook his head.

 

"I don’t like having strangers in the house," he said, pushing a tie away with the tip of his foot.

 

"I’m flattered," Baekhyun said and when Junmyeon looked up at him, he had a grin on. 

 

That bouncy one. The one Junmyeon hadn’t seen in so long he had almost forgotten how nice it looked. Although, his cheeks didn’t look as round anymore. He had lost a little weight. Not bouncy then. Jumpy. It made Junmyeon’s shoulders jump with laughter.

 

Before Junmyeon could say anything, Baekhyun looked around, humming. It was the long, deep hum that always made Junmyeon close his eyes when he heard it in his earphones.

 

"Well, how about we clean together then since I’m here?" he eventually offered, turning to Junmyeon properly again. "It’ll be a way for me to thank you for accepting to raise green onions with me."

 

That was such a weird way to put it. It made Junmyeon laugh. And accept.

 

Cleaning with Baekhyun was as fun as it was with Minseok. The only difference was the novelty of the voice nagging at him. He liked it. And the fact that Baekhyun turned it into a competition, dividing every task in half, and decreeing that the last one to finish would have to tell the other an embarrassing story.

 

It made cleaning fun. Especially when Junmyeon found out that when he had been a child, Baekhyun used to run to the door with his father’s baseball bat every time someone rang the bell, to protect his home. More often than not, the bat used to be too bulky for him and he fell on his way. He had apparently lost a lot of baby teeth like that.

 

As for Junmyeon, he didn’t know he had that many embarrassing childhood stories about school until Baekhyun coaxed them out of him with encouraging nods, funny stories of his own, convincing words, and laughter that ricocheted all over Junmyeon’s walls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What happened here?"

 

Junmyeon dropped face first on his couch, closed his eyes, and groaned.

 

"What?" he groaned again, shifting to fold his arms under his head and use them as a pillow.

 

"Your house,” Minseok explained, voice broad with surprise. Junmyeon turned his head to look at him and snorted when he saw the intrigued, almost suspicious pull on his best friend’s eyebrows. "It’s clean."

 

Junmyeon’s lips opened wide in a yawn that closed his eyes. He brought a hand down to scratch at his back and dropped his head back down on the couch. It was too early for Minseok to be this cute.

 

"We cleaned it," he said, yawning again. When he stopped making a weird, airy sound and opened his eyes again, Minseok was giving him a curious look. "With Baekhyun. My neighbor."

 

"Oh," Minseok said, dragging the sound out as he nodded before grimacing into an exaggeratedly impressed expression. He moved closer to Junmyeon and nudged his legs with his foot. "The failed marriage one?"

 

Junmyeon grunted in agreement, curling his legs towards his torso to make some room for Minseok to sit on the couch. He did so with the groan and complaint of an old man.

 

"He’s actually going through a divorce," Junmyeon said, turning to lie on his back and parting his folded legs to look at Minseok through them. 

 

"Shit, really?" Minseok questioned, eyes widening and mouth rounding in surprise. This had been an ongoing joke for a while.

 

Junmyeon nodded, hummed, dug a finger into his thigh.

 

"I think he’s spending time with me because he feels lonely," he muttered, trailing his finger up to stab his knee instead.

 

That had been obvious from the start. It was even more obvious now. It wasn’t a bad thing ,it was just the reason.

 

"Well, usually I wouldn’t like that because it would be like he’s kind of using you," Minseok frowned, his hand approaching to swat Junmyeon’s away from his knee. "But I guess it kind of benefits you too."

 

It did. Junmyeon was aware of it. Loneliness had brought them together. And dysfunctional lighters.

 

"He’s my new friend, I think," he smiled, widening it when Minseok cooed in a way that could’ve been mocking but was nothing but sincere.

 

"I’m proud of you," he said, reaching to pat Junmyeon’s knee a bit too strongly. Junmyeon dug his toes into his thigh in retaliation and Minseok simply caught his ankle to keep him still and then started massaging his foot. Magical, fairy fingers. "And since I’m proud of you, I’ll take you out to see the cherry blossoms."

 

Junmyeon raised his eyebrows. "They bloomed already?"

 

"Of course!" Minseok gave him a look. Junmyeon felt like he had committed an atrocious crime by not knowing that cherry blossoms had bloomed. Minseok could be too cheesy sometimes. "It’s April already. Yesterday was the first bloom."

 

It was already April. Junmyeon hadn’t even noticed. April was the same as March. December would be the same as last January. The same as the upcoming January.

 

But today, today was fun. Today was nice. Minseok made something as simple as walking and looking at trees fun. They took a lot of pictures. Junmyeon of the sky, the ground, the prettiness of spring. Minseok took pictures of Junmyeon, himself, them together. He preferred immortalizing memories rather than sceneries. It was perfect that way, complementary.

 

To thank him for being his best friend and never complaining, never giving up on him, Junmyeon sprinkled two or three petals over Minseok’s head and let him twirl around like a spring fairy under them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday started with Baekhyun ringing Junmyeon’s bell.

 

"I came here for my green onions," Baekhyun grinned, holding up a glass halfway filled with water as proof.

 

He was wearing glasses today. Big, round glasses, that made his nose smaller than it usually was. More noticeable. Eye-catching. Cuter. Junmyeon let him in after the surprise of seeing someone on his doorstep on a Monday morning wore off. 

 

Right. Baekhyun growing green onions on his balcony meant Baekhyun having to visit more than usual to check up on them. Junmyeon followed him to the balcony with a lighthearted smile. It was difficult for him to feel light in his own house, foreign. His house felt alien with someone inside on a weekday, on a morning. Junmyeon liked it.

 

He watched Baekhyun slide the door open and call out to his green onions with a coo, like they’d somehow reply to him. He was as energetic as he had been on Saturday. He looked better. But Junmyeon wouldn’t be fooled. His dark circles were still as prominent as ever. Baekhyun might just be trying to look better, to feel better. And that was okay.

 

Junmyeon opened the door wider, leaning against the frame to observe Baekhyun crouching down to pour a little amount of water into the pot, around each onion individually.

 

"They actually are starting to grow," Junmyeon found himself saying, talking first. Foreign.

 

He had forgotten about the pot on his balcony through the whole day yesterday, hadn’t even checked up on them but now, he could see that the once dry heads were actually starting to sprout with a tiny touch of green.

 

Baekhyun looked at him over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. His smile didn’t match the suspicion and offense in his gaze. Baekhyun smiled so easily, always. Junmyeon was glad he could now too. He was glad the fact that his green onions were growing could make him look so content.

 

"Why do you sound like you expected them _not_ to actually grow?"

 

Junmyeon merely shrugged, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows, choosing not to say anything, just because Baekhyun was being playful and he wanted to be too. Tutting, Baekhyun turned back to his green onions. Junmyeon’s smile widened when he wasn’t looking. He breathed in the fresh morning air. The sunlight falling right on Baekhyun’s face made his skin warmer, booping a glow on the tip of his nose.

 

"Soon, we’ll be able to eat them," he said, patting the rim of the pot before getting back up with an exaggerated groan.

 

Junmyeon snorted. "Are you an old man?"

 

Baekhyun gave him another offended look.

 

"You’re older than me, _hyung_ ," he drawled out.

 

And this was the second time Junmyeon heard that word. Only the second time, separated from the first with a quite lengthy stretch of time, but it sounded the same. Not insincere but not a full mark of politeness either. Challenging. It sounded challenging and with a loud swallow, Junmyeon found that it all sounded attractive.

 

He stepped back into the living room.

 

"Are you saying _I_ am the old man?" he questioned the other, tone chiding.

 

Baekhyun shrugged. "I would never."

 

Baekhyun joined him inside and Junmyeon fixed the last button of his shirt, continuing what the doorbell had interrupted. Baekhyun looked around once, gaze finding Junmyeon’s again. It was a bubbly gaze. Not that bright but alive, boiling with the fervor of the mischief Baekhyun seemed to be possessed by so early in the morning. It didn’t tire Junmyeon out, it energized him.

 

"You already messed this place up," Baekhyun stated, voice anything but neutral. Reprimanding and as amused as the jumpy corners of his lips. "In one day."

 

"Well," Junmyeon shrugged, rubbing his hands down his tummy once to adjust his shirt. "It’s my house."

 

Baekhyun looked at him for a silent second before bursting into a stream of chuckles, the peal of it furnishing Junmyeon’s house. He found himself smiling too. Because he had made someone smile.

 

"I didn’t know you were so feisty," Baekhyun said, giving Junmyeon an impressed look.

 

"You’re easily impressed," Junmyeon snorted. He was anything but feisty.

 

He leaned to grab his tie from the table and slid it around his neck. Baekhyun shrugged, high, defined, exaggerated. It looked like a reaction to a compliment.

 

He turned around and grabbed a shirt from the floor, starting to fold it. Junmyeon looked at him in partial surprise.

 

"Don’t mind me though," he said, leaving the messily folded shirt on the table. "I just discovered thanks to you that nagging at someone was much better than being nagged at."

 

A strain in his smile as he crossed his hands behind his back. Maybe because the sunlight didn’t really touch him anymore. Maybe because this was a rare allusion to Hyeran.

 

Junmyeon adjusted his tie properly and smiled at him, tight-lipped but comforting - Minyoung had once told him all his smiles were comforting.

 

"I don’t mind being nagged at," he said, checking the time on his watch.

 

"Perfect then," Baekhyun said, quieter than everything he had said until now, but not crushed. He leaned to grab the empty mug Junmyeon was planning to leave on the table for at least a week, until he ran out of clean glasses.

 

Junmyeon stood there, idle, and waited as Baekhyun went to the kitchen and then came back without the mug. They stood there, both looking at each other, both silent. Junmyeon didn’t want to go to work. This was a nice morning. 

 

"I have to go," he eventually said, regret distorting his voice into a sigh.

 

"Right," Baekhyun muttered, looking down at where he dug his big toe into the floor, sliding it forward, back, forward, back again. "You have to work."

 

It sounded regretful. Junmyeon hoped it wasn’t his own regret, his own desires deafening him. He pressed his lips together, went to the bathroom, came back in with a jacket on his shoulders. Baekhyun was still there. Junmyeon wished he would continue being there. But he had to go to work.

 

He brought a hand up to scratch at his eyebrow. Baekhyun was still looking down at the floor, still moving his foot. The only difference was that his lower lip was riding up his upper one just a tiny little bit. 

 

Junmyeon didn’t like people who looked sad. He didn’t want them to. That was why he took his decision. Not for him, for Baekhyun.

 

"Do you walk by the convenience store to get to the subway station?"

 

Junmyeon closed his mouth, meeting Baekhyun’s expectant gaze. He had been too slow. Baekhyun had already asked.

 

He wasn’t planning to take the subway today, he had thought about taking the bus instead.

 

"Yeah, I pass right in front of it," he confirmed, smiling, hand fiddling with his wristwatch. "We can walk together if you want?"

 

"Sure!" Baekhyun perked up, grinning, the crinkle of his nose bumping his glasses up a little bit.

 

He looked eager. Junmyeon hadn’t asked because Baekhyun had looked sad. He didn’t smile because Baekhyun looked eager.

 

It was all because _he_ felt eager. Because _he_ wanted to spend more time with Baekhyun. Much, much more time.

 

It turned out Baekhyun didn’t only make the arrival home more bearable in the evening, but also the departure in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon ate a tomato. Decided that wasn’t good enough for dinner. Cooked himself pasta with kimchi. Or something that looked like it yet had no resemblance to the recipe he had found online after deciding that today, he’d eat like everyone else who wasn’t struggling. 

 

He had forgotten that most people didn’t eat alone, with drawings of their parents, favorite character, or random people stuck to bottles to keep them company.

 

He washed the dishes. Lost the courage to rinse them. Forced himself to do it.

 

He dropped on his couch. Turned on the television. Watched the news. Turned it off. There was no one to make commentary with on whatever was happening around the world, in their country.

 

He called his mom first. 

 

The first thing she did as soon as she picked the call up was ask him if something was wrong. If there was something the matter. That he usually didn’t call first. If something was wrong. Are you sure you’re okay?

 

She cared so much. He could see it in memories of when he used to live in his parents’ house. He could visualize it while talking to her on the phone, that alerted, attentive expression, her readiness to providing a solution to whatever problem he had. He could hear it in her voice, her insistence, in the weight of her worry. 

 

She cared so much. He missed her so much. So much. 

 

They talked for six minutes. She talked for five of them. Junmyeon closed his eyes and listened. Just listened. Took it in. Savored it. It wouldn’t happen again in a long while.

 

He hung up and cried. Curled up on his couch, buried his nose against the backrest, and sobbed.

 

Because he missed his family. Because he was tired. Because he was crying. 

 

Because he wanted a presence. Just a presence. Was that too much to ask for? Just someone. Anyone. Just a presence. He sobbed for it.

 

He did it out loud, openly. Because no one could hear him anyway. Because there was no one to tell him to stop anyway.  

 

Because if he was going to cry, he might as well let it fill his house up a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon missed the radio show today. They had held their monthly meeting to go over everything the bank had been through for the past month and as always, it had been a long meeting. Probably because Mr. Yoo was always an hour late to these meetings that already started an hour after the closing time of the bank.

 

It had been raining when the meeting had ended and Junmyeon, along with a few other coworkers who didn’t have a car, had waited more in the bank for the rain to dim down. It had been already half past seven when Junmyeon had stepped out of the bank, the sky calm but not spotless. 

 

It had started raining again right when he had gotten off the bus but the bus stop was already too far for Junmyeon to make a turn and shelter himself there. Instead, he ran to the convenience store near his apartment and pressed himself against the wall, protecting his already wet body as much as he could. He slumped against the cold surface and took a moment to catch his breath.

 

He was tired. So tired. Not because he was very out of shape and had to run a bit. He was just so tired, he wasn’t even hungry despite not having eaten anything since lunch. Maybe not hearing uplifting words from the radio on his way home was actually enough for him to feel the exhaustion of the day. People were walking in front of him. Left, right, right, left. Umbrellas, hoods, laughter from female students running under the rain, hair loose, scrunched face from a man who had nothing but his hand to protect his head from the rainfall. He should eat. He should turn around, enter the store, and get something to eat. There was instant ramyeon at home, though. He’d eat that if he felt like it.

 

Looking down, he brought a hand up and felt around his hair. It was a mess. The wet whoosh of cars driving through, headlights making the drops more apparent in the air. Strands were falling over his forehead instead of standing sculpted atop his head. He tried ordering it for a bit, then completely gave up, swiping a hand through his hair to bring everything away from his forehead, from his eyes. The wet, quick, heavy tap of footsteps approached and then stopped next to Junmyeon. Heavy breath. He looked up and met Baekhyun’s gaze.

 

No voice. No narration. No songs. Just eyes, a mouth, a glistening nose, and a heaving chest. Wet hair bordering his stare from Junmyeon’s. Then, he looked away, ahead of himself instead. Junmyeon sighed, slumped back against the wall again.

 

"No umbrella?" he asked, pressing the back of his feet against the wall to protect the tips from the rain.

 

"No umbrella," Baekhyun echoed. Truly echoed. With the same bland, bleary voice.

 

Junmyeon smiled, then stopped. He didn’t have to smile. This was Baekhyun. He was used to seeing Junmyeon when he didn’t have the strength to smile. He closed his eyes, leaned the back of his head against the wall, stretching his throat and lengthening his sigh.

 

Silence. No silence. Baekhyun was slowly regaining a normal pace of breathing. Cars still slowly drove by, people still rushed in front of them, like a song starting in his left ear and ending in his right one. Starting in his right ear and ending in his left one. Junmyeon held his briefcase in front of him, let it dangle in his fingers. It would be easy to drop it. He didn’t.

 

"I’m sad," Baekhyun whispered next to him, almost small enough to be drowned by the rain.

 

Junmyeon opened his eyes, didn’t move, didn’t look at Baekhyun. He swallowed. It widened his throat then enclosed his breath.

 

"Why?" he asked, that single syllable falling down as slow as the drop of rain he could feel trailing down his temple.

 

Baekhyun sighed. Shuffled closer. "It’s raining." His shoulder pressed against Junmyeon’s, leaned against Junmyeon’s. He wasn’t sure who was leaning on whom. "I’m sad," he repeated and here, sheltered in front of a convenience store, with people rushing around them, rain entrapping them with each other, gifting them the relief of each other’s presence, Junmyeon felt like Baekhyun’s voice was an intimate aid through his earphones.

 

He couldn’t help but look at Baekhyun, couldn’t help but drape his gaze over his side profile with wonder. His features were a blend between harsh and creamy. Droopy eyelids, droopy eyes. Shoulders just as droopy. The rosiness of his lips was glistening, from the rain, from the lights around them, maybe from his own saliva. He looked small. He looked beautiful.

 

But that wasn’t what pulled Junmyeon’s gaze to him. No, it was the fact that he could say it. That he could admit it. Out loud. Not once, but twice. Junmyeon knew that it was deeper than the rain, that the rain was just an excuse, sometimes a trigger. He knew it very well. Baekhyun was sad and could say it out loud.

 

Junmyeon had never. He never did, had always thought it was a weakness. There was no time to tell someone he was sad.

 

But here. Here, they were waiting. Junmyeon was standing there, waiting, shoulder holding onto Baekhyun’s. Perhaps clinging. Perhaps being clung to. Here, Junmyeon had time.

 

"I’m sad too," he said, and it was hard. Hard to make it loud, above a thought, above a sigh, above containment. But he said it. He said it and he felt his body relying more of its weight on Baekhyun. Or maybe it wasn’t him. He took a deep breath in, forced it in, and then forced it out again. He didn’t have to use much force, the second time. "I’m sad."

 

"Why?" Baekhyun echoed, paralleled. And maybe this was it. Maybe this was what they were. Parallels. Weird parallels that kept crossing each other. Parallels that weren’t really that at all. Just Baekhyun and Junmyeon. Lonely. Sad. Wet from the rain.

 

Junmyeon still didn’t look at him. His throat felt too tight, too tense, he wasn’t sure he could turn his head.

 

"Because I can’t comfort you," was his excuse. It wasn’t really one. It was just one of the many reasons.

 

Not that he could name any other reason.

 

Someone approached, then walked into the convenience store. A cheery voice greeted them inside. A woman stopped in front of them, lowered her umbrella, adjusted it, put it over her head, and continued walking. The drops multiplied. It didn’t look like it’d stop any time soon. Junmyeon wouldn’t mind standing here all night.

 

"You’re already comforting me," Baekhyun said, after a silence long enough that Junmyeon actually looked at him this time.

 

A smile. Not bouncy, not jumpy, not happy either. Just a smile. But not any less of a real one. Tiny, frail, dull, sad. But beautiful with the light behind them, the streetlights in front of them. Like wilted flowers.

 

Junmyeon swallowed. Pressed his lips together. Parted them. Breathed. And spoke.

 

"But I didn’t say anything. I’m not doing anything." He never did anything. "I didn’t solve your problem." He never did.

 

Baekhyun shook his head, kept his smile, closed his eyes, slow, opened them again, even slower.

 

"You being here with me is enough of a comfort."

 

The rain kept falling. Slow. Suddenly so slow. From Baekhyun. Mellow. From them, together. Yellow. From the lights.

 

Junmyeon looked in front of him again. Tightened his grip on his briefcase to keep it from dropping. Smiled. Strained, wet, but there.

 

He didn’t know his presence could bring comfort to someone.

 

It never worked for himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun came to check up on his onions once every two days. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Junmyeon liked both occasions. Baekhyun’s presence made both parts of his day easier to deal with.

 

There was a second pot on the balcony now, right next to the first one. He had brought it earlier, a few minutes ago. His first onions were growing well, they were still short but they were starting to actually look like green onions. Baekhyun had said they wouldn’t grow anymore by the start of May, at most by the middle of the month, if they were lucky.

 

It was evening. Junmyeon had already eaten, he supposed Baekhyun had already eaten too. He remembered when they used to smoke with Junmyeon standing on the balcony and Baekhyun in the backyard, less than two meters below. It was better like this, with both of them on the balcony, standing next to two pots of green onions. It was better to feel a presence right next to him. Baekhyun made it so easy to feel him. Always energetic, always moving, jittery even when he was down.

 

"Too bad our balconies aren’t on the same side of the building," he said, turning Junmyeon’s head towards him. He was holding the ashtray on the guardrail, between them. Junmyeon tapped ash off. Baekhyun blew smoke out and sighed. "We could’ve smoked together while standing on our balconies more often. It’s nice."

 

He said it with a light smile. Light because Junmyeon could see it clearly. Mushed into his cheek where his knuckles kneaded the skin of it. Still not as plump as the first time Junmyeon had seen it.

 

"You can just come here whenever you feel like smoking on a balcony with me," were the words Junmyeon smoked out into Baekhyun’s face, blowing the rest of it away from him.

 

He turned towards Junmyeon, smiling with that one corner of his lips. High, almost threatening in its jest. 

 

"I’m going to make you regret giving me this permission," he said, voice low, shoulders even lower when he leaned closer to Junmyeon who laughed at him. He looked a little sleepy in the corners of his eyes.

 

"I’ll just throw you down there if it gets too much," he threatened Baekhyun, nodding towards the backyard.

 

Baekhyun snorted. "I can just climb right back up."

 

Junmyeon gave him the stinky eye. He smiled when Baekhyun’s shoulders shuddered with laughter.

 

It was time for their silence. Their silence. Junmyeon never really shared this kind of silence with anyone else. Not void, nor loud, nor stressful. Just peaceful, restful. It was their silence.

 

His curiosity waved it away after a while, when his cigarette was already crushed on the ashtray Baekhyun was still holding.

 

"Do you miss her?" he asked, a question that seemed stupid but wasn’t really. Baekhyun never talked about his marriage, his divorce, never. Junmyeon wondered, if he was sad because he missed her or if he was sad because he was alone.

 

He had played BTOB’s _Missing You_ as his parting song on the radio tonight. When Junmyeon had asked him if he chose the songs himself, Baekhyun had said that he chose only the parting song himself, along with the narration. It wasn’t a scripted one, he just said whatever was on his mind and whatever went along with his song choice of the night.

 

It came as a relief, for some reason. That the words Junmyeon hung on to survive the end of his days weren’t written by someone who wasn’t Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun remained silent for a bit, smile shrinking into tightness. He hummed. Then, he smiled again, fainter.

 

"Not her," he said, taking a pause afterwards. Junmyeon shifted to mirror his position, leaning an elbow on the guardrail, snuggling knuckles into his cheek. He waited and Baekhyun spoke again. "Not her, but the person that she was before. Maybe a year ago, before everything started degrading." 

 

He finished his cigarette and Junmyeon had a feeling he wasn’t done talking so he remained silent, looked at him, at the shifts in his expression. No hatred, no longing, not even sadness. Acceptance. 

 

"We’re better off like this," he continued, interlacing his hands together, forearms resting on the guardrail. He shrugged and Junmyeon listened attentively. This was important. This was Baekhyun actually talking about the issue. This was a relief. "We were getting ugly together. I don’t want to be ugly with her. I only ever wanted to be happy with her, and if we can’t be happy together, we might as well be happy separately."

 

Junmyeon nodded, lengthily. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t breached the subject because he had something to say, he had only done it because he knew he would’ve had something to listen to.

 

Maybe Baekhyun was aware too. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed another cigarette and lit it up. He blew smoke out through his nose and Junmyeon's gaze dropped to the two streams of grey swirls coming together in a cloud.

 

"Can you teach me how to do that?" he suddenly asked, voicing out his fascination after so long.

 

"What?" Baekhyun questioned, looking at him. Then he smiled, crooked. Clingy. It was a clingy smile. It held onto Junmyeon’s mind. "This?" he said, taking a drag of his cigarette while looking into Junmyeon’s eyes and then blowing it out of his nose again.

 

It was a partially funny sight, like an angry bull, and partially wonderful. Attractive.

 

Perhaps Junmyeon hadn’t jerked off in too long again.

 

Baekhyun tried teaching him, letting him use his own cigarette before Junmyeon even had the occasion to reach for his own pack. It was difficult, made his nose itchy even if he swore no smoke could even pass by there. He failed.

 

But Baekhyun laughed a lot at all the weird, funny faces Junmyeon probably did. And he laughed too, because he made Baekhyun laugh, because this was nice. Just having fun with a friend. It wasn’t really a failure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday. No one woke him up in the morning this time. That didn’t mean it was a bad day.

 

It was a silent day. No one screamed through the walls. Junmyeon hated himself just a little bit for missing it. At least, it used to make him feel less alone. It used to make him feel like he was living with people around him.

 

1pm. He got out of his house, slippers dragging on the floor. He took a left turn towards the mailbox area and stopped. Baekhyun. Standing there, his box unlocked, keys still in the hole, his whole body idle. He was holding a ripped envelope and the letter that had probably been inside. Perhaps he had been holding them for so long that the weight of their frailness was taking a toll on his hands. He was trembling.

 

Junmyeon continued walking and, without looking at Baekhyun, he opened up his mailbox. Nothing. He locked it again. Turned. Looked at Baekhyun. Felt the worry in his stomach, clenched his hands together around his keys, tighter than he should. 

 

Ripped jeans. White shirt. Oversized. No glasses. Hair a little greasy. Frown on his face, the skin of his lips chapped under the weight of his teeth. Baekhyun looked bad. He looked so much worse than when they had smoked on his balcony, when Junmyeon had thought he was getting better.

 

"It’s the confirmation papers," he said suddenly, still not looking at Junmyeon, his blinks barely even chopping the steadiness of his stare on the documents. For the divorce. A laugh, quivery, like his shoulders, his pupils. Junmyeon’s own breath. "It’s been more than a month. They’re a little late."

 

Junmyeon nodded, to himself, to Baekhyun. Then, he touched his arm. Baekhyun lowered the papers. Encouraged by the absence of rejection to his touch, Junmyeon shifted his hand to Baekhyun’s back, pushed a little. He said nothing and brought Baekhyun home with him.

 

Baekhyun said nothing and followed.

 

They shared beer, loneliness, and blurry, tainted air.

 

To Junmyeon, it was easier to breathe this way. He hoped it was for Baekhyun too.

 

Maybe Baekhyun didn’t miss anyone, but maybe he was still missing something. Junmyeon knew that feeling. He knew it very well.

 

He didn’t know how to make his friend feel better..

 

He made Baekhyun smile once or twice with lame jokes that made him groan at the same time. Just once or twice. That was enough for now. Junmyeon didn’t need Baekhyun to smile, didn’t need him to be okay, to get a grip on himself.

 

He just needed Baekhyun to know he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, that was better than being okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pulse of the noraebang threw Junmyeon out of the building in a fury. He took long strides forward, paced a little bit, held onto his waist, kneaded his neck with his fingers, turned around, and looked at Minyoung.

 

She was holding Junmyeon’s jacket over herself, fingers tight around the two lapels to cover the wet, almost translucent fabric of her blouse. 

 

He took a deep breath in and stepped closer to her.

 

"He did it on purpose," he said, stated, announced, even if he knew that it was obvious to the both of them and to everyone that was still in that room.

 

Minyoung sighed, brought her second hand up to hold onto the jacket.

 

"It’s just Mr. Yoo," she said, small, resigned, painfully so. She laughed, forced. "You know how he is."

 

He knew. He knew Mr. Yoo kept Minyoung high in his Best Breasts of the Company ranking. He knew the man had jubilated when his beer had slowly spread on Minyoung’s shirt and revealed a peek of her bra. He knew and Junmyeon was so repulsed by everything, he could crumble on the floor, retch, lay down, and wish he would never have to get up again.

 

But that was useless. That wouldn’t help. Junmyeon wanted to help.

 

He ruffled his hair, dragged an eyelid down with his fingers, stretched the tight line of his lips.

 

"You should report it," he blurted out then, before that sentence could lock itself into him for the thousandth time. "You should report it," he repeated, firmer, nodding to himself, nodding to Minyoung whose lips remained parted before she shook her head.

 

"Who would believe me?" she snorted, shaking her head even more. "And what would I report him for? He just spilled beer on my blouse. That’s it."

 

"You know it’s more than that, Minyoung," Junmyeon hissed under his breath, unwilling to raise his voice at her but unable to stay calm after so many years of watching his colleague, his friend get mistreated. "Today, it’s just beer _accidentally_ spilled on your clothes. Tomorrow, what will it be?" His voice trembled. He didn’t even want to imagine. He didn’t want to think about how far this scum of a man would go.

 

Minyoung swallowed loudly. Junmyeon felt the beat of the building reverberating in his chest. It wasn’t the music. It was the anger. 

 

"And Mr. Kim. He’d believe you. He’s not like the Branch Manager. He has connections. We can’t let this go on anymore."

 

A woman wobbling on her feet got out of the building, swaying dangerously close to them. They both stepped aside and a lesser wobbling second woman followed after the first to grab her arm. They laughed too loudly, too drunkenly.

 

He looked back at Minyoung, really looked at her. He wanted her to understand. This would be the best thing to do.

 

"I don’t," she started before cutting herself of with a deep breath. "I don’t want to lose my job. If it fails, he’ll fire me. I don’t want to risk that. I can’t risk that, Junmyeon," she said, voice a shudder.

 

Junmyeon deflated. Fumed. Let his mind eat itself up. Let the anger snap his fingers into fist. Unfair. This was so unfair. He didn’t want her to lose her job either. He bit his lower lip, upper, lower.

 

"I could do it," he said, voice a croak deformed by the emotion. He cleared his throat. "I can report it instead," he repeated, pulling out the last of his determination that had remained hidden in his throat.

 

And Minyoung looked so tired. So small with Junmyeon’s jacket on her frail body. She wasn’t small, nor was she frail. She was strong. She had resisted until today. But Junmyeon didn’t want her to. He didn’t want her to _have_ to.

 

"You’ll be risking your job too," she said, hesitant, eyebrows knitted.

 

Junmyeon remembered her first day at the bank. They were the same age but he had started earlier than her. Even from her very first day, Minyoung hadn’t needed any help. Junmyeon had never helped her, besides listening to her complaints about colleagues, about boyfriends. She had helped him so much. Just by being in the bank, sitting a few steps away from Junmyeon. He wanted to help her too.

 

He could lose his job. But would that matter that much? Would that be so bad? Working there wasn’t healthy. Not with that kind of putrid atmosphere. Not with that kind of rotten head barking stinking orders here and there. Not with the constant putting down, the absence of recompense, praises, or even gratefulness. It wasn’t healthy. Not for him, not for anyone.

 

He tried a smile. His lips twitched. "At least I’d lose my job trying to make things right for everyone, right?"

 

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, there was enough room for doubt to crowd into him.

 

He was too ordinary. This felt too big. Too important for him. Too much.

 

"I’ll think about it," Minyoung said, lips pressed into a tight line.

 

"I’m not going to force you. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. But I would really like this to get solved. I’m not saying it’s easy either. But I’ll take the blow if needed," Junmyeon reassured her, reassured himself, in a way.

 

She sighed, tightening the jacket around herself.

 

"I’ll talk about it with the other girls too. It’s not just me."

 

Junmyeon nodded.

 

This wouldn’t be easy. This could turn into a disaster. But he would do his best. Because he was tired.

 

Tired of seeing himself as useless. Of doing nothing. Of going along with everything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He got home.

 

He realized that he had gotten used to Baekhyun’s presence.

 

It felt empty. So empty Junmyeon felt himself sucked into the vacancy. But he was too used to it so he didn’t even scream as he felt the fall. He crashed on his couch. It groaned, tired of carrying him, only him.

 

They had seen each other yesterday, for the green onions. Not today. Baekhyun only came every two days. And Junmyeon had gotten used to it. He hated it. It made this even more unbearable. The emptiness. Compared to how good Baekhyun was at talking loud, shifting around on the couch, on the ground, loading this whole place up until it felt like Baekhyun’s home more than Junmyeon’s.

 

He missed it, tonight. Someone to listen to, talk to, laugh with, smoke with, do nothing special with.

 

He closed his eyes. Maybe he should just jerk off. Or watch porn. Or watch ASMR. A movie. Call Minseok. Or just sleep. Draw. He hadn’t drawn anything in a while, too long. Sometimes Junmyeon could draw every day for a week and then nothing for two months. That happened. It made him feel even more isolated, but it happened.

 

He puffed his chest up with a deep inhale and then slowly sighed it out through his nose. Opened his mouth, inhaled, exhaled through his nose. Maybe he could just practice blowing smoke out through his nose. But that was a silly thing to do when Baekhyun wasn’t there to laugh at him and try to guide him. 

 

Then, he heard it. Though the wall. A scream. His eyes snapped open. He hadn’t heard a scream through the wall in so long. He had never heard this scream. His name.

 

He threw himself forward to sit up. Stopped. Stayed there. Listened. Nothing. Then, he heard Baekhyun’s voice again, calling his name through the wall. He snapped up to his feet and ran out of the living room. He hadn’t heard Baekhyun scream since the whole divorce procedure had started. Baekhyun had no reason to scream anymore. Unless something bad had happened, was happening. 

 

Junmyeon bumped into the door in his haste to open it, then breached the very few steps bordering him from Baekhyun’s door. He was barefoot, wearing nothing but his socks and he slipped on the way, crashing against the door. He gripped on the handle as hard as panic grasped his entire body in its hold. He knew it would be locked but still tried opening it. It was locked. What should he do? He cursed. He could still hear Baekhyun screaming his name. In his head, not through the door. 

 

He should call the police. Or an ambulance. He bit on one fingernail. Or the security system to ask them for the code. He rested his hand on the handle, feeling the distress slowly growing, piling up and pressing down on his chest, shortening his breath.

 

Then, the handle was lowered and the door opened.

 

"I can’t believe this worked," were the words of a Baekhyun who looked pretty alive, healthy, and smiley.

 

Junmyeon, rigid, stood there and looked at him in utter puzzlement. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. Then Baekhyun's hair flopped to the side of his forehead with the tilt and Junmyeon couldn’t feel surprised any longer.

 

"You mean you called me here on purpose?" he asked, voice raised higher at the end of his sentence by incomprehension.

 

"Yep," Baekhyun nodded once. Cutely. Still cutely despite the outrage Junmyeon was trying to suppress.

 

He reached to push at Baekhyun’s shoulder with a strong hand. "I thought something bad had happened and you needed help or something," he accused the other, dampened by the relief of seeing Baekhyun standing there in one piece. His cheeky self. Except his cheeks were still a little sunken.

 

But he still laughed at Junmyeon with that satisfied smile of his. The one that looked like an artisanal bouquet of triumph, amusement, and joy.

 

"I’m glad to see you’d literally run to me if I ever needed help," he said, crookedly teasing Junmyeon as he opened the door wider and moved back. Junmyeon entered and followed him to the living room. "Though, I do consider eating alone for a whole week a very bad thing to happen to me."

 

Junmyeon stepped inside, sheepish when he saw Baekhyun looking at his shoeless feet. 

 

"You mean you actually sat there and screamed my name until I heard you instead of taking literally three steps and knocking on my door?" he couldn’t help but question, although his voice was charged with half hearted accusal more than curiosity or disbelief.

 

"Exactly," Baekhyun said, turning to point at him with a shameless finger as Junmyeon followed him into the living room. "But hey, at least I prepared the food for you before calling you. Come here, sit," he simpered, hand perkily tapping on the table after he settled on the floor, between the couch and the table.

 

There were two bowls of ramyeon on it and Junmyeon hesitantly stepped towards it, feeling out of place as he sat down. But not uneasy or unwanted. He just wasn’t used to going into other people’s house. It was usually his and Minseok’s, his parents’ once in a blue moon, but both of these felt like his own home too.

 

It was basically the same apartment as his. The formation of the living room was the same and he supposed the rest of the house was identical too. The only difference was that Baekhyun had a carpet on the floor, an actual dinner table along the wall, dried flowers in vases, livelier ones around the television, and curtains on the balcony doors. This was a family house. Decorated by a family. Prepared for a family.

 

But it was just him sitting on the other side of the low table, not the dining one, and Junmyeon didn’t feel alien to this. Didn’t feel like he should get out. Didn’t feel like he should never come back.

 

"Now, you’re rescuing me again," Baekhyun said when Junmyeon remained silent, perhaps a bit dazzled. He had never sat at a table, in a house, with food already waiting for him on the table. Or rather, it hadn’t happened in so long, Junmyeon felt a squeeze in his throat, in his entire being as he stared at instant ramyeon. Just instant ramyeon. It shouldn’t feel so big. "Thank you," Baekhyun spoke again and when Junmyeon finally looked up at him. He was smiling.

 

Not dimmed. Eyes narrowed into a broad smile. Forehead glowing a little when he swept his hair up. He fit in this home. With so many flowers around. It fit Baekhyun.

 

Junmyeon grabbed his chopsticks and shook his head.

 

"It’s alright," he smiled, looking at the steam coming out of his bowl. He had really just prepared it. "Eating alone truly sucks."

 

"Exactly!" Baekhyun heartily agreed, already digging into his food. "And for once, we’re doing something healthier than smoking or drinking together."

 

Junmyeon stopped before he could bring noodles up to his mouth and tilted his head at Baekhyun, humming lengthily.

 

"Well, considering this is full of chemicals, I’m not sure it’s that much healthier."

 

Baekhyun rested his chopsticks against the rim of his bowl and gave him a partially amused, partially offended look.

 

"But it’s indeed better than what we’re used to," Junmyeon added, nudging reluctance into his voice just to make Baekhyun laugh. It worked, the airy, huffy sound of it making Junmyeon laugh too. He finally slurped on his noodles, looking at Baekhyun do the same. There was a lump of cheese on his noodles. "Why is yours like that?"

 

Baekhyun hummed, cutting off his noodles with a bite.

 

"Mine is tastier," he declared, mouth still clogged with food. Junmyeon found it fitting too, more than disgusting. "I often add milk and cheese or lemon juice to the soup. I didn’t add anything to yours because I didn’t know if you’d like it."

 

Junmyeon hummed in interest, eyeing the broth. He had never really seen anyone eating ramyeon like that.

 

"It looks great," he said, turning back down to his food. It was just ramyeon, something Junmyeon had eaten various kinds and brands of throughout his whole entire life. It tasted better than usual. Here, in a house that was more decorated than his, on a table that wasn’t packed with messiness or drawings to accompany Junmyeon, with Baekhyun sitting across him, it tasted better. Definitely better.

 

"Do you wanna give it a taste?" Baekhyun offered, already pushing his bowl closer to Junmyeon.

 

Silently accepting, Junmyeon pulled the bowl to him and dipped his chopsticks into the soup, grabbing a lump of noodles. Cheese caught on them and stretched a bit when he brought it up to his mouth. It tasted nice. Unusual, but not bad. The milk softened the aroma and saltiness of it while making it richer, the hint of sourness from the lemon juice matching perfectly with the rest of the flavors. 

 

"It’s really good," Junmyeon said, unable to keep the surprise off his voice.

 

Baekhyun had probably noticed it, he laughed a little when Junmyeon pushed the bowl back to him.

 

"I have very great taste," he nodded to himself, cheeky and merry as he plunged his chopsticks into his noodles.

 

"I’ll try eating a whole bowl like that one day," Junmyeon promised, both to Baekhyun and himself. If Baekhyun heard it, Junmyeon might actually have the energy to go through with it.

 

"You can’t mess it up on your first time," Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, a finger straightening from the hand he was holding his chopsticks with. "I’ll make it for you. The first time is important."

 

Junmyeon stared at him as he leaned down towards his bowl and resumed eating. Baekhyun wanted to eat with him again. This wasn’t an exception, a special occasion. Junmyeon liked the fact that it wouldn’t be. Liked the way Baekhyun puckered his lips up to the max as he slurped on noodles, the glossy ruby of his skin plump, only momentarily stained by the orange of the processed cheese before a tongue swiped over it. Junmyeon pulled his gaze back down to his noodles and grabbed a big mouthful of them.

 

"How was your day?" Baekhyun asked after a moment of slurpy, sucky silence.

 

Junmyeon quickly chewed on his food and gulped it down before answering. 

 

"It was great," he said, watching a corner of Baekhyun’s mouth raise up before the other followed. It was a habit to reply this. It was a habit for Baekhyun to say what he was going to say next too.

 

"What was the great thing that happened then?" he asked, looking at Junmyeon before focusing back down on his noodles.

 

Junmyeon hummed. He always did. He sometimes didn’t manage to find an answer. Today, he did.

 

"I think I took a great decision. In helping a colleague at work," he said, a bit hesitant because despite those words, he still couldn’t tell for sure whether it was a great decision or not.

 

"You’re good at helping people," Baekhyun said, lifting his bowl to slurp the soup directly from it.

 

Junmyeon smiled. He liked the fact that this was the kind of person Baekhyun thought he was. Good at helping people.

 

"What about you? How was your day?" he asked back when Baekhyun put his bowl down.

 

"It was a good day!" Baekhyun answered without even thinking. It was a sincere answer. Baekhyun could say it, that some of his days were bad, some were alright, some didn’t feel like days. Today was a good day. "We got a new intern at the studio and he’s really passionate about it. He always speaks with grand gestures so he knocked a cup of coffee down but he was forgiven because he apologized around thirty times."

 

Junmyeon laughed at that. New interns. He knew how that was. They could be cute, irritating sometimes, but mostly very funny.

 

"I also got a call from my mom," Baekhyun continued as Junmyeon grabbed a single noodle and brought it up to his mouth. Slowly. He could eat slowly here. There was someone to eat with. Baekhyun was used to Junmyeon mostly listening, Junmyeon could just eat and enjoy looking at someone across from him while doing so. "I sent her pictures of our green onions and she thinks you’re amazing for not killing them yet."

 

Junmyeon widened his eyes. "Did you tell her I would kill them?"

 

Baekhyun shrugged, with the smile that gave him the look of a satisfied prankster. 

 

"I just told her I didn’t see a single plant in your house. She’s just like me. If someone doesn’t grow flowers or plants, then they’re automatically bad at gardening."

 

"I’m not bad at gardening. The onions are still alive," Junmyeon grumbled, mushing noodles into his words.

 

"Thanks to my frequent visits," Baekhyun singsonged. Today really seemed to be a good day. They fell into silence and Junmyeon glanced at him. Broke his smile with noodles, then broth. He was glad. "Oh," Baekhyun said after only a short moment spent unspoken. "I also got a call from a friend during the show. From the military."

 

Junmyeon hummed in interest. He hadn’t kept contact with anyone from the army.

 

Baekhyun went on about a few anecdotes concerning that friend and his military service, funny, interesting ones that made the both of them laugh. And sadder ones too. But these, they didn’t spend too much time on. It was all in the past. Not worth reminiscing.

 

He had so many things to say. In general. About his day. A single day. Junmyeon was still amazed by it, no matter how many days Baekhyun had recounted to him. How could there be so many interesting things to share about a day? They weren’t even mind-blowing things, just small things that probably would sound insignificant from a mouth that wasn’t as thin, but sculpted as Baekhyun’s. His upper lip was pretty. 

 

"What about you? How was your day?" Baekhyun asked when he had already finished his bowl. Junmyeon was only halfway through.

 

He looked up at him in puzzlement. He had already asked. He usually never asked twice. But Baekhyun smiled at him, wide, encouraging, accepting.

 

Junmyeon pursed his lips, hummed, ate another mouthful of noodles, glanced at Baekhyun who was still waiting, looking at him, patient. He thought back on what Baekhyun had just said. Small things. Just small things that were insignificant. Junmyeon had liked hearing about them still. He thought, thought, thought and parted his lips. Words took a second to come out.

 

"There was a client with the same name as me at the bank today," he said, words dragged out by hesitation.

 

"Oh really?" Baekhyun perked up, grin wider than before. Junmyeon saw pride in it and hoped it wasn’t just his delusions. "What kind of person was he?"

 

Junmyeon told him every single detail he remembered about that man, his appearance and non-confidential information. Baekhyun listened attentively, didn’t look bored or disinterested. Junmyeon told him about the grandma knitting in the bus afterwards and Baekhyun asked him how many scarves he had exactly, weaving a whole new conversation on that topic alone.

 

He finished eating but stayed there. They watched a little bit of television, shared a lot of conversation. Shared it. Junmyeon stated random facts he remembered about his day, scattered all throughout the evening. 

 

A pretty car he had seen in the streets. A funny advertisement he had seen on the television this morning. A client that had argued with him about this and that. A lame, random joke that had made colleagues laugh and made Baekhyun feign kicking him off the couch while laughing.

 

There were long silences in-between each recollection of his day, sometimes an entirely different conversation. Still, Baekhyun always listened and deepened everything Junmyeon said into an actual topic to talk about.

 

Junmyeon decided to pay more attention to his days from now on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, they finally ate Baekhyun’s green onions. Their green onions, as Baekhyun always corrected him.

 

Baekhyun cleaned and cut the onions while Junmyeon prepared the batter to make pajeon. Baekhyun prepared the dipping sauce while Junmyeon fried the onions a little and then added the batter to it. They were working well together. Even if Baekhyun’s constant talking and advice-giving while Junmyeon tried to flip the pancake distracted him a little and he almost failed at catching it back in the pan. Junmyeon came close to dropping it a second time when he realized that Baekhyun had screeched the first time and as soon as their eyes met, they both burst into laughter, almost toppling over each other.

 

Eventually, they settled at the table in the living room, each of them with half of the pancake in their plate, the dipping sauce between them. It was delicious. Junmyeon loved pajeon, loved it even more now that he wasn’t eating it alone.

 

"You really don’t use dipping sauce?" Baekhyun questioned him halfway through, when Junmyeon was done talking about the decision he had taken about the bank and reporting the Branch Manager.

 

He had been hesitant when Baekhyun had asked him about what he had said yesterday, about helping a colleague. After telling him, Baekhyun had been much more supportive than expected. He had also said that he wished Minyoung would’ve taken this fight on her own, just because it was more of her fight than Junmyeon’s. But he also understood what was at stakes, Junmyeon’s life was less likely to be ruined by the issue than hers or any other female employee’s. It was unfair. 

 

Junmyeon shook his head, prying a stripe of green onion from the pancake and putting it in his mouth.

 

"I prefer it without anything added," he shrugged.

 

He didn’t like any other taste overpowering the perfect blend between sugar, spice, and the characteristic flavor of batter. 

 

Baekhyun dunked a piece of onion-less pancake into the dipping sauce. "That’s surprising," he said, humming at Junmyeon with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

 

"I guess my tastes are as bland as me," Junmyeon laughed behind a hand, shrugging with a jump of his shoulders. Unapologetic. He liked his bland flavors.

 

Baekhyun’s playfulness shattered into a frown.

 

"You’re not bland," he instantly said, voice falling low, partially reprimanding, partially defensive. Junmyeon’s chopsticks hovered over his plate. "You’re very funny. You make lame jokes very funny, that’s some amazing talent. You’re also really comfortable to be with," he said, chopsticks swinging around to illustrate the conviction palpable in his tone. "Really comforting too. You’re a good listener. If I ask the right questions, you’re even a good talker. And you’re getting better at talking, sharing things about yourself. You’re not bland. You’re just Junmyeon hyung. That’s the opposite of bland."

 

Junmyeon hadn’t meant it. It had been a joke. But Baekhyun looked so offended for him, upset, leaning closer over the table to get his point across, looking right into Junmyeon’s eyes to make sure he was heard, understood.

 

He looked down and smiled. "I was just joking, but thank you. I’m glad you’re defending me from myself."

 

Baekhyun huffed. "It was your lamest joke ever then," he chided him, reaching to steal a green onion from Junmyeon’s plate, perhaps as some kind of punishment. Then he pointed at himself with his chopsticks, smile confident. Radiant. "But don’t worry, hyung. I can totally protect you from yourself. I might be short but I’m definitely taller than you. I’ll win the fight."

 

Junmyeon snorted, arguing that Baekhyun was in no way taller than him. Or stronger. Competitiveness and arm wrestling ensued. Junmyeon lost, the mole on Baekhyun’s thumb distracting him. He had never been this close to it. It looked pretty. 

 

Junmyeon was defeated but didn’t lose his smile. He hadn’t heard himself through the eyes of another in so long. He never joked around like that with Minseok, knowing that the other would take it too seriously. It felt nice.

 

Through Baekhyun’s eyes, Junmyeon thought he didn’t sound that bad after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Chimaek!" Minseok cheered as soon as Junmyeon opened the door, already in his pajamas and ready to go to bed.

 

He laughed. Minseok looked like an excited child with his bright yellow windbreaker and the black plastic bag raised above his head, dangling close to it. Except it wasn’t candies inside, just beer.

 

He let him in with a wide grin. They hadn’t drank together in such a long time, they hadn’t even seen each other in too long. He had missed his best friend. And to show it, he let him eat most of the chicken, knowing that Minseok only did this when he was on his cheat meal. Junmyeon felt special. Minseok’s cheat meals always happened with him, no one else. Just him.

 

Surprisingly, Minseok had brought soju as well, something that they usually only drank if they were outside. He mixed it in with his beer and clanked his glass against Minseok’s as they laughed about that one colleague whom Minseok hated the guts of. 

 

"You should resign," Minseok said, in-between licks of his greasy fingertips. He swayed a little. He had drank a lot. A _lot._

 

Junmyeon had been moderate so far. He wanted to remember how happy he was in this moment. Sometimes, that was all he hung onto.

 

"I won’t resign," Junmyeon laughed at the randomness of Minseok’s advice. He always said that at least once whenever he was drunk. He tilted his head, hummed, and then bit into a drumstick. "But maybe I’ll get fired," he said, chewing at the same time.

 

"What?" Minseok instantly exclaimed, eyes comically widening. "Why?"

 

Junmyeon shrugged, didn’t speak until Minseok stabbed a greasy fingers against his thigh repeatedly, dragging laughter out of him. The more he laughed, the lighter he felt. This was so much better than alcohol.

 

"I told Minyoung I wanted to report him for sexual harassment to female employees," he announced after a big gulp of somaek. It sounded so scary, even after drinking, even when his words had a slight slur to them.

 

"You did that?" Minseok said, putting his glass down, eyebrows shooting up. He was so expressive with his face when drunk. Junmyeon liked his best friend a lot. "For real?"

 

Junmyeon nodded. Nodded more. Bit his lower lip. "I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s a little scary, but I want to do it. I know she wants to do it too but she’s probably more scared than I am. The consequences would be worse for her. If I lose my job, it’ll be for a right cause, right?"

 

Minseok pressed his lips together, tilted his head, and smiled at him, a smile that illuminated his whole face. The same proud smile from back when Junmyeon had graduated from college, when Junmyeon had gotten accepted into the bank, when Junmyeon had offered to buy him a meal with his first paycheck.

 

He threw himself into Junmyeon with a bit too much strength, hugging him a bit too tightly around the neck, probably slobbering a bunch of emotional words Junmyeon couldn’t hear over his own happiness and the muffle of Minseok’s mouth against his neck.

 

"You can do it, Junmyeonnie," he assured, patting his shoulder, too hard. Junmyeon patted his back even harder and Minseok pulled away with a whine that quickly disappeared into another simper. "You took the best decision and if anything happens, I’ll be there to kick people’s asses."

 

Junmyeon chortled. "Thank you very much. Here," he said, grabbing a piece of chicken and shoving it into Minseok’s mouth. He chewed on it while still grinning goofily and then scrunched his features when his cheeks cramped.

 

Junmyeon heaved another fit of laughter and patted his head when Minseok leaned it against his thigh. He was reassured. Relieved. Knew now that he had taken the best decision. Even if it still all depended on what Minyoung and the other female employees thought, he was glad that he had at least taken the first step.

 

The door rang then and both he and Minseok looked up towards it before looking at each other. He pushed his head off his lap and Minseok happily went back to drinking as Junmyeon got up to open the door, steps rushed, skippy. They hadn’t ordered anything.

 

He grinned when the door opened and the smile he had expected greeted him.

 

"Beer?" Baekhyun chirped, holding two cans in his hands, tilting one of them towards Junmyeon.

 

Baekhyun liked drinking with him. Junmyeon liked drinking with him. Junmyeon just liked Baekhyun. He was nice, so nice. The fuzziness in Junmyeon head made him slump against the door and smile until his cheeks closed his eyes.

 

"I like drinking with you, Baekhyun-ah," he answered, completely unrelated but not any less true. Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. A nice eyebrow. The one near the nice mole he had on his temple. He pursed his lips. "But I have someone over."

 

Baekhyun chuckled, an airy laugh that made Junmyeon want to close his eyes the same way the very first breeze of a summer morning always did. 

 

"That explains why you’re already drunk," he hummed, looking over Junmyeon who straightened up so Baekhyun would have more of him to look at. Baekhyun smiled, smaller, just as pretty. "Sorry. I guess I got used to having all your attention for me. It didn’t even cross my mind that you might be busy with someone else," he laughed, this one an awkward, sheepish strings of _haha_ ’s.

 

Junmyeon shook his head. Nice words. Baekhyun always had nice words.

 

"You can still have my attention!" he reassured the other. That sounded nice. "If you’re willing to share it with my best friend."

 

Baekhyun raised one of the cans he was holding up to tuck it under his chin, narrowed his eyes, and hummed.

 

"I’ll try not to fight him for the attention," he promised, laughing along with Junmyeon when he pulled him inside and closed the door.

 

Minseok greeted Baekhyun with arms raised up, cheering like he was seeing an old friend from the military. It was hard for Minseok to have a proper conversation with Baekhyun when he was this drunk but it was a very good thing that Baekhyun was a lightweight and drank quickly. He was tipsy in no time and took it upon himself to mix soju and beer in Junmyeon’s glass, even offering to go get makgeolli from his house. But Junmyeon had work tomorrow so he refused and watched his two drunk friends trying to communicate.

 

He felt like he was growing abs from how hard he was laughing. Minseok had to repeat everything he said twice for Baekhyun to understand. Baekhyun still gave completely unrelated answers, talking about the weather, then the car he’d like to buy one day, and then face masks. A lot of alcohol was spilled but the chicken was entirely devoured. Junmyeon’s beer tasted bitter when Minseok told them about how much he liked broccoli soups and Baekhyun replied that love was dead with a long sigh. Minseok, still upset about his straight crush, drank to that with a loud cheer.

 

At one point, Baekhyun got more excited than Junmyeon had ever seen him when Minseok told him that he was a health instructor at the gym. Baekhyun’s first reaction was to ask Minseok if he could touch his arms. All three of them burst into laughter at that, Junmyeon accusing Baekhyun of having waited to do that all night with a wheezing voice. Baekhyun shrugged, unashamed. Minseok took his shirt off, the tank top underneath enough to reveal both his arm and upper body muscles. Baekhyun’s wondrous sound pushed them into another fit of laughter. 

 

Junmyeon stomach started hurting when Baekhyun palmed all over Minseok’s arms. When Junmyeon reached to touch his chest, flick a nipple through the fabric, Baekhyun jumped at the occasion to touch his chest with a loud _woah._ Minseok had never looked prouder.

 

Junmyeon had never been happier. He had no idea it would make him so content to have two of his closest friends together with him at the same time - his two only friends, really.

 

Even as Baekhyun passed out on the floor much later, soon after followed by Minseok, as Junmyeon curled up on his couch, he drifted off with a smile. Not a drunken one. An amazed one. At how full his home felt, how full of merriment he felt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, Junmyeon panicked as soon as he woke up.

 

He was late. He shouldn’t have drunk that much. He shouldn’t have allowed Minseok to drink that much either. 

 

These regrets vanished when he sat up on the couch and saw Baekhyun’s leg thrown over one of Minseok’s where they were still sleeping on the floor. He tried not to laugh, at the sight, at the reminiscence of last night, at the exhilaration that still hadn’t left his home, nor him.

 

He quickly got ready, took a rushed shower, scrubbed the stench of beer out of his skin, brushed his teeth while trying to style his hair, and took big gulps of his coffee. Footsteps startled him. He wasn’t used to them. He turned around and Baekhyun’s eyelids looked so soft, Junmyeon was pretty sure he’d just beautified the entire room with his eyelids alone. He didn’t know how that worked. But it did.

 

"Are you leaving for work?" he questioned, voice hoarse, fusing sleep and the warmth of a night of rest. Deep. Intimate. Junmyeon put his mug down a bit too loudly.

 

"Yeah," he said, grabbing the two ends of his tie and grimacing at Baekhyun. "Sorry, did I wake you up? There’s painkillers there." He nodded towards the counter, his glass of water still half finished next to the opened box of medicine.

 

Baekhyun grunted and stepped forward but not towards the painkillers. Towards Junmyeon. He must still be drunk. There was no reason for Junmyeon to feel so nervous so suddenly, as Baekhyun stood in front of him, directly in front of him, and blinked sluggishly.

 

"I never wear ties," he whispered, words slow, stretched. Chocolate. Melted. Unhealthy. Unavoidable. Even his fingers looked dreamy, asleep as they grabbed the black of Junmyeon’s tie. "Can I try?" he asked, looking at Junmyeon.

 

They were the same height. Baekhyun’s body was barely bigger than his. He had noticed. Had stared. A lot. Too much, he realized as he stood there, gaze stuck to the haziness that softened Baekhyun’s face. His nose looked like a cushion, a perfect point for the tip of Junmyeon’s finger to land on in a booping motion. Lips. Maybe lips too. Would fit there perfectly. Junmyeon felt so small. He nodded. He felt small. Big. Gathered into where Baekhyun’s eyes were looking.

 

He should have drank less. Perhaps he should’ve jerked off at some point before Minseok had come in last night. This was why. That was why he was noticing all these things. Attractive things.

 

Baekhyun’s smile spread calm over Junmyeon. He stood there and waited, stared, admired as Baekhyun’s fingers fumbled just shy of his neck. When Baekhyun stepped back, his smile looked drunken. Joyful. 

 

Junmyeon’s tie was crooked, he could feel it, he could tell when he looked down and could see barely anything. Junmyeon’s smile, as he offered it to Baekhyun, wasn’t wonky. It was a full one. One that made him feel, and probably look, silly.

 

They got out of the house together, leaving Minseok to continue snoring sporadically on the floor. He’d let himself out just fine, it wouldn’t be the first time. Baekhyun still looked half asleep as he composed the code of his apartment door. Junmyeon waited for him to open the door, get inside, and wave at him with closed eyes before leaving.

 

He didn’t adjust his tie until he walked past the convenience store and saw his reflection. His fingers absently took care of the messy knot. His gaze trailed over his face. He was hungover. He had never felt better.

 

He continued walking. Continued smiling.

 

Today wasn’t a great day. Today was a happy day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few weeks passed. They weren’t weeks that mostly meshed into each other. They were days that Baekhyun made memorable with his presence. 

 

Baekhyun rang on his bell with takeout, with beer, with an excited bounce to his hair as he told Junmyeon about this movie on that certain channel. They always ended up watching these movies together, on Junmyeon’s couch or Baekhyun’s. Both were just as welcoming to Junmyeon if they were sitting on it together.

 

Junmyeon rang Baekhyun’s bell to ask if he had tuna left, Baekhyun answered yes and they ate tuna sandwiches together. Junmyeon rang Baekhyun’s bell with takeout, Baekhyun’s favorite, his favorite, something in-between. 

 

Baekhyun rang his bell for a lighter, for a smoke, for a laugh. For silence, for a share of loneliness.

 

They spent a lot of time together. Junmyeon’s house felt full to the brim whenever Baekhyun took his first step inside. It also felt buried deep under layers and layers of earth as soon as he left. 

 

But that was okay because Baekhyun rang his bell with biscuits and cakes that Junmyeon found out he baked himself. He rang Junmyeon’s bell to ask about his day. Junmyeon rang his bell to tell him about that weirdly dressed man he saw on the subway, about that really good restaurant he ate lunch at with his colleagues, about Minseok’s latest antics, about that picture of a woman with an umbrella he took on his way home. 

 

Junmyeon told him things he didn’t even know he wanted to tell someone. Things he didn’t even know he needed to tell someone. Things he was now relieved to have someone to share with.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You won’t have to reveal your names," Junmyeon said, a secretive and careful hush over his voice even if he knew they were the only three people left at the company.

 

Minyoung looked at Saehee, met her gaze, and looked back at Junmyeon with a nod.

 

"I’m sorry that you’ll be at the front of this," she said, pressing her lips together. 

 

"But thank you for doing this, still," Saehee added, more hesitant. She didn’t experience as many wrongdoings as Minyoung, as far as Junmyeon knew, but she took it worse. She was still so young, and so eager to build her career. "I know it’s better if you’re the one to do it."

 

Junmyeon shook his head. It wasn’t. It would be better if they fought for themselves. He didn’t really see himself as fighting for them. He wasn’t being heroic, a gentleman, or a savior of any sort. He was just being a proper human being. He didn’t want to take credit for something that should be normal, that should be done by anyone. This was wrong, in a way. Wrong because he knew how bad it must feel for them to be unable to do it in his stead.

 

"I’m just doing what’s right," he sighed, loosening his tie a little. This bank was starting to suffocate him more with each passing day. "I’ll go see the Vice Branch Manager tomorrow. I won’t give any name," he repeated. That was the most important thing. Minyoung had said mostly everyone was alright with this, except a few people who were persuaded that this would amount to nothing. Either way, everyone wanted to keep the anonymity. "I’ll talk about it with him and see if he’s willing to do something"

 

Minyoung gave him a few more encouraging words and discussed what exactly he should say to Mr. Kim, what he shouldn’t tell him as long as they weren’t sure about his stance on the matter. He listened attentively, the same way Saehee did, taking all her words into consideration. He would base the impromptu meeting on them tomorrow. 

 

He bid them both goodbye with a smile and a cheerful shake of his fist as they all whispered _hwaiting!_ to each other. Junmyeon laughed with them and left the bank, knowing that they would follow soon after.

 

As soon as he got outside, he plugged his earphones into his phone, turned the radio on, and listened to music that was unsurprisingly good. Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy had pleasant and satisfactory taste. The whole radio channel did, Junmyeon rarely even switched to another channel nowadays. He looked up at the sky, the sun still up but slowly starting its descent toward the building roofs.

 

He started walking. Just walked. Walked instead of taking the subway or the bus. He just walked, with nothing but music and Baekhyun’s laughter, his humming, his conversations, and advice in his ears. No guest today. He just read messages from listeners, took phone calls, and played a lot of music, sometimes talking about the lyrics. Junmyeon walked and his legs were tired. But this was a good kind of tired. He wanted to walk the rest of the day away and reach tomorrow quickly.

 

But he didn’t. He took the subway after more than half an hour of aimless walking. He sat down on the first free seat he caught sight of. It was crowded but not too noisy. Everyone was tired at this time of the day, most students were already home or on the way. He closed his eyes and listened. A gentle melody, followed by a livelier one, then a beat that probably made people crazy under dim lights and the scent of alcohol. Baekhyun. Humming the end of the song that had just played. The smile could be heard in his voice. Junmyeon could feel it on his lips. Another song after a moment on the _Just Say It_ corner. Where people phoned the broadcast to confess something to someone who was probably listening. A woman apologizing for a friendship broken because she was in love with said friend. 

 

He got off at the terminus of the line, took another line, listened to more music. He got off right when the music was lowered and Baekhyun sighed into his ears.

 

"Isn’t the weather nice today?" he asked and it was his narration voice, the one that sounded deeper, untroubled, much more liberated and controlled by his emotions at the same time. "Isn’t it a nice weather to fall in love? A nice day to confess? The right moment to realize it? Ah," he sighed again, jolly, smiley. Junmyeon could imagine the glow of the end of the day on the highest points of his cheeks. "I think I’m in love. Isn’t this exact second perfect to think that?"

 

It was. Perhaps it was. Junmyeon walked on the busy streets. The light was dimmer, night would fall soon. It was almost 7pm. People walked past him. He walked past them. His shoulder bumped against a man’s and they both turned to apologize at the same time. He resumed walking.

 

"It’s such a nice feeling. The moment you realize it. That you’re in love."

 

Was it? Had it been, for Baekhyun? Would it be, for Junmyeon? Would it ever happen?

 

He noticed a bakery a few meters ahead of him. It was still there. Just like last year. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.

 

"Spring is the perfect time to fall in love. Everyone says it, it’s a cliché, but that doesn’t make it any less true, right?" He chuckled, more air than sound. Junmyeon felt it blow on his fingers. They twitched. He needed a cigarette. Two. Five. "It’s just right to feel bubbly. Excited about that person. To spend time with them. Laugh with them. To get happiness just from the fact that you can feel it. That emotion in you. Love. I hope you’ll feel it this Spring. My parting gift to you will be a lovely song tonight. DPR Live’s _Action_. Thank you for finding Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy today too."

 

The song started with an energetic voice and Junmyeon pushed the door of the bakery open. He smiled at the woman greeting him happily from behind the counter.

 

Baekhyun was quite amazing for pronouncing such words with such sincerity, such heartfelt intonations despite saying, without fault, that love was dead whenever he got past his second can of beer. Maybe loving someone felt that good.

 

Junmyeon bought a chocolate cupcake with a strawberry on top. He paid and got out of the bakery, holding the small box in his hand. The song hadn’t ended yet. He turned the volume up and walked.

 

The song ended but he continued walking. He passed by the bakery once more, twice, steps slow, the day even slower as it darkened. He headed towards the subway again after picking up jajjangmyeon from a restaurant nearby. He was tired of eating that. It suited the shades of his house. Home. House. He arrived there, whatever that place was.

 

He put the takeout bag on the table. Took off his jacket, threw it on the floor. Took off his tie, threw it on the couch. Took off his shirt and threw it into his bedroom, on the floor, as he walked by it to reach the bathroom. He stood under the shower head for five minutes. Washed his hair, scrubbed his body. Stood under the shower head for five minutes. Or something like that. He hadn’t checked the time. Maybe it was already tomorrow. It wasn’t.

 

Hair wet, he plopped down on the couch. He ate, too quickly. Only a few mouthful of noodles left. He slid down to sit on the floor and eat at the table. Like normal people. He ate. His house was clean. Only a few clothes scattered around. It felt emptier. He left the empty plate on a corner of the table. He smoked, keeping the windows closed. It wouldn’t make it easier to breathe if he opened them, it wouldn’t make the air less oppressive.

 

He made himself a cup of coffee. He watched a little bit of television. He spent five minutes on five different channels. He turned it off and scrolled through his emails. Nothing urgent to reply to, it would wait tomorrow at the bank.

 

He stood up. Went to the kitchen. Came back. Opened up the box from the bakery and put it on the couch, sat in front of it. He planted the candle next to the strawberry. Stared. A pretty sight. He didn’t snap a picture of it.

 

His thumb felt bitten when he ignited the candle with his lighter. A lovely sight. Just for his eyes to see.

 

He stared. Until the candle started melting. He took a deep breath in. Once, twice, thrice. Then, he sang himself a birthday song.

 

He felt swallowed by his couch, tiny. Hands clasped under his chin, eyes squeezed shut, he sang himself a birthday song. He sang it out loud. He didn’t sing it, he screamed it. So it would feel like his voice was just overpowering other voices. So it would sound like a small group of people was singing instead of just him.

 

It ended. So quickly. He opened his eyes again and leaned down to blow on his candle. No wish. That was childish. No wish, he told himself. No wish. Don’t make a wish, Junmyeon-ah. Just don’t. You’re tired. Don’t.

 

He swallowed the tightness in his throat. It protested by asphyxiating him more, draining him more. He closed his eyes, puffed his cheeks, felt the warmth of a single flame on his skin, and the doorbell rang.

 

He straightened his back, stared at the candle. Stop. No wish. He blew it out, the smoke slithering in its wake roping around his neck, keeping him frozen in place, body folded towards the cupcake. The doorbell rang again and he turned towards the sound.

 

He snapped his limbs out of the stone entrappening them. He dragged his feet on the ground. He went to open the door.

 

The wish he hadn’t wished.

 

"Did you forget to invite me to the party?" Baekhyun said, voice sounding as puckered as his lips looked while he spoke. His head was turned to the side a bit, as if he was side-eyeing Junmyeon without really doing it, and his eyes were narrowed. They always were when he played offense.

 

Junmyeon stared. Unsure. Of why Baekhyun was standing there. Of what he was saying. Of what Junmyeon should say. Of how exactly Baekhyun was standing there.

 

Then, he remembered. Right. The walls. Baekhyun could hear him the same way Junmyeon had always heard him.

 

He parted his lips, kept them open for a moment, still destabilized by Baekhyun’s sudden appearance. The daintiness on the corners of his eyes, novel with every blink of his short lashes.

 

"It’s just me," he said then, shrugging, nonchalant, accepting, used to it.

 

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows. "Exactly! That sounds like the best party ever," he argued, stressing on his words like he was offended again.

 

Then he smiled. How could every one of Baekhyun’s smiles make him look like he was a breath away from bursting into laughter? Like he could find something to be happy about in everything. Junmyeon was taken aback. Flustered. 

 

Baekhyun pressed a hand against the door then. "You ruined that song, let’s start over," he said and with a push of his hand, he opened the door wider, Junmyeon letting go of the handle and watching him step inside like he had dozens of times before. Slippers, ripped jeans, a smile that stuffed Junmyeon whole with something. He didn’t know what. He didn’t hate it.

 

"But I already blew the candle," he mumbled as he closed the door, before falling on Baekhyun’s steps towards the living room.

 

"That’s alright," Baekhyun said, standing on the threshold between the living room and the hallway. He shoved a hand in his pocket and then retrieved a red lighter out of it. Junmyeon’s. He held it in-between his fingertips, twisting his wrist a little to shake it in his hold. It looked safe, cradled by Baekhyun’s fingers. "I came to rescue you, this time."

 

Smiling. Always smiling. Not always. Baekhyun was sad sometimes, a lot of time. But he still smiled afterwards. Junmyeon was sad most of the time. Baekhyun still made him smile whenever he wanted to. Maybe his lips liked Baekhyun’s. They always tried matching their shape.

 

Baekhyun did sing the birthday song better. He clapped his hands, grinned, and even swayed energetically as he sat crosslegged on the other side of the cupcake, on the couch. He fit. Just right. Took up enough room for Junmyeon not to feel devoured by his couch anymore. Junmyeon blew the candle out and he clapped even more, cheering loudly. Junmyeon’s cheeks felt like they were melting off from smiling too hard. This hadn’t happened in so long. Years. Minseok never had a free day on Junmyeon’s birthday, they never fell on weekends, and they celebrated it at least a day later, always. It wasn’t the same as celebrating it on the exact day.

 

"If you told me, I would’ve baked you a big cake," Baekhyun reprimanded him, eyeing the cupcake inside the box with a twist to his lips.

 

"It just didn’t cross my mind," Junmyeon admitted with a grimace. It truly hadn’t. Birthdays meant a day spent without anyone. A habit. Tradition. But not today. Today, he smiled big and leaned closer over the cupcake. "But if you bake a cake on your birthday, I’ll make sure to eat three quarters of it."

 

Baekhyun was incredibly good at baking. And he baked a lot. Junmyeon wondered it if was a stress or sadness reliever.

 

"You’ll have to wait until next year then," Baekhyun chortled.

 

"When is it?"

 

Baekhyun’s hands dropped to the hollow between his crossed legs. "The sixth," he shrugged.

 

Junmyeon frowned at the narrowing of his smile. "Of what month?"

 

"This month?" Baekhyun asked more than stated, shrugging again but this time in a comical way, with his hands skywards and adjusted to the raise of his shoulders.

 

Junmyeon scoffed. "So you’re scolding me for not telling you it’s my birthday after letting yours pass without telling me either?"

 

Baekhyun’s hands dropped again and he frowned down at them, shoulders slumping. His fingers played with a loose thread on his sock.

 

"I wanted to spend it alone. I never spent it alone before. I wanted to see that I was able to spend it alone."

 

Junmyeon understood. He pressed his lips together and sighed a little, but he understood. He was aware that Baekhyun wasn’t entirely over it yet. It had been two months only, that wasn’t a long time compared to five years spent married, much more spent loving.

 

Baekhyun was still rebuilding himself. He could see it in small things, in the days he spent not visiting Junmyeon, the fact that he still drank too much, his frequent sudden drops of mood. It was okay. He should take his time.

 

"Next year then," Junmyeon conceded, perhaps promised. To himself. To Baekhyun.

 

He looked back up at Junmyeon with a dimmer smile, but not a blown out one. "Next year," he nodded.

 

This smile wasn’t less attractive than the others. Junmyeon searched for one instance of an unattractive smile. He couldn’t find any.

 

He looked down at the box and pushed it towards Baekhyun.

 

"We can still share this."

 

"Yep," Baekhyun agreed, grin perking his cheeks up. "We’re good at sharing things."

 

They were. Good at sharing things. Good by sharing things.


	2. Chapter 2

Junmyeon took a deep breath in as he stood in front of the door, looking over his shoulder at Saehee, before looking ahead again and knocking with two sharp jolts on the door.

 

The permission to enter came almost instantly and Junmyeon rushed to enter the office. Mr. Yoo was already on his lunch break but he didn’t want to spend a suspicious amount of time in here either.

 

Mr. Kim smiled as Junmyeon bowed at him and then gestured him to come sit on one of the armchairs in front of his desk.

 

"What brings you here, Junmyeon-ssi? I’m used to seeing you visit me only with files in your hands," the man laughed, to which Junmyeon tried joining except his own laughter felt too forced even to his own ears.

 

"It’s actually about work again. Even without the documents," Junmyeon said as he hesitatingly took a seat.

 

And then he started panicking. Documents. He should’ve brought documents maybe. A written report, a letter, evidence to support his accusations. Something. Anything. He swallowed down an insignificant part of his nervousness and did his best not to press a hand against his stomach. It felt hollow and inflated at the same time.

 

"I’m listening," Mr. Kim said, letting go of his computer mouse to pay full attention to Junmyeon.

 

He froze. Parted lips, hands laced on his lap, and words fleeing from his mind one by one. This was it.

 

This would start it. Or maybe destroy it all. He wouldn’t let it destroy it all. If Mr. Kim didn’t want to cooperate, he would find another way. It would end only if Mr. Kim fired him on the spot. He started speaking, or rather just humming. Mr. Kim gave him an encouraging nod of the head. It didn’t feel like any of Baekhyun’s.

 

He didn’t know how to word it. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t do it. 

 

"Is what you’re going to tell me some kind of bad news?" Mr. Kim laughed, although this time it was a less livelier laugh. Junmyeon pressed his lips together.

 

He had to do this. He had already started. He couldn’t disappoint Minyoung, or anyone else who had taken the risk of agreeing to him doing this.

 

"I would like to report something," he said, voice sounding far off and foreign. He gathered it together, cleared his throat when Mr. Kim said nothing and just listened, gaze attentive but not prying. Junmyeon wrapped a fist around a finger of his other hand. Squeezed. "The Branch Manager. I would like to report all cases of sexual harassment against female employees he’s part of."

 

It felt like silence came out of his own mouth when it took over the room. Junmyeon could hear his heart beating worriedly, ready to stop or push him into fleeing this place altogether.

 

Mr. Kim didn’t say anything. He nodded, lengthily, still looking at Junmyeon who didn’t avoid his gaze. He didn’t want to seem unsure. He shouldn’t look unsure of whatever he was defending.

 

"Well," he said then, speaking after what felt like a distorted length of time, too short, too long, too thick. "I can’t do anything for you personally."

 

Of course. Of course, it would’ve been too easy. Of course, he would face rejection.

 

Junmyeon did his best not to let his shoulders free fall. 

 

"But you can," the Vice Branch Manager continued before he could even gather the wits to say anything and defend his cause.

 

"I’m not sure I understand what you mean," he said, voice barely above a mumble, finger barely above snapping under the pressure of his other hand.

 

Was he being told to deal with it on his own? If the Vice Branch Manager himself couldn’t do anything, what was Junmyeon supposed to do on his own?

 

"You could collect evidence," he said, replying to the questions Junmyeon was pretty sure he couldn’t conceal in the width of his gaze. "You can submit the report and the complaint to the headquarters. He’s the Branch Manager, we can’t do anything on our own. Well, I won’t do anything much. I’m not willing to take the risk but you seem to be. I’ll only intervene when my uncle, his senior, will ask me about it. Because he will ask me about it, if you report it."

 

Junmyeon listened. Mr. Kim’s voice seemed far away. But he could hear it unmistakably. He wasn’t fired yet. He hadn’t really asked or needed permission but he was still given approval. Not help, but advice. He wasn’t willing to actually take part in the issue but he still steered Junmyeon to the right direction. That was better than nothing. Less than what he had hoped for but still better than nothing.

 

He let go of his numb finger, rubbed his hands over his thigh to get rid of the dampness on his palms.

 

"What will you say then? When he asks you about it?" Junmyeon inquired, straightening his back.

 

"The truth," he answered, raising his hands in a nonchalant motion. "I might not be present during dinners or meetings but I hear and see enough."

 

And yet, he had never done anything. Junmyeon bit the sourness out of his tongue.

 

"I’ll do my best to do the right thing," Junmyeon assured, both to himself and to the Vice Branch Manager. Voice louder, shoulders squarer, heartbeat tamer.

 

"You’ll probably need witnesses. This isn’t just any kind of accusation. I suppose female employees aren’t willing to give their identity away since you’re the one doing this but, without witness your word doesn’t stand a chance. You need strong evidence."

 

"I will work on it," Junmyeon nodded, not really taken by surprise. He was aware that his words alone wouldn’t be enough to make an impact. "But I don’t want to give any names. And if anything happens, I will take the blame. And the blow."

 

"As expected," Mr. Kim smiled, not mocking, not amused either. Just a smile. A bit reassuring even if Junmyeon wasn’t sure what he meant exactly. Before he could inquire about it, the man tapped his hands on the desk in a dismissing motion. "Well, good luck, Junmyeon-ssi. You’ll need it."

 

He smiled politely and stood up from his seat.

 

"I’ll do my best," he affirmed, bowing.

 

He would.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon couldn’t sleep.

 

His bed was too big. He was too small. Curled up on the mattress, nothing but his feet covered by the blanket. Because it felt too heavy for him.

 

He couldn’t sleep again.

 

Would he be able to do it? Or would he lose his job and possibly ruin the lives of every female employee involved? That mattered more. The prospect of losing his job barely even worried him. It should. He was weary enough not to care about it as much as he should.

 

He turned around. Grabbed his phone, activated the night shift mode with the hope that it’d help him get drowsy as he scrolled through his Instagram feed. Didn’t work. Closed off his phone. Turned on the lights. Grabbed it again ten minutes later. He scrolled more. Turned off the lights. Sent Minyoung a message to tell her about how the conversation had gone. Sent Minseok a message he knew wouldn’t get a reply to until morning.

 

He jerked off. Hoping that the high and the crash would tire him out, make him sleepy. It didn’t. He got up to wash his hands, clean himself. He fell back down on his bed. Took his phone. Locked it. Opened it. Turned it off. Turned it on again. He turned on the lights too. It was too silent outside. It was too silent inside. He heard nothing through the walls either.

 

Bringing his legs up closer to his chest, he laced his hands under his chin. Keeping himself together. He hummed to himself. It didn’t sound like anything. He reached for the switch. Didn’t press on it, left the lights turned on. Yellow. Dim. Sad. He couldn’t find anything to hum.

 

The doorbell rang. Junmyeon grabbed his phone. 1:24am. He sat up. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep. Why couldn’t he just sleep? He yawned. His eyes watered. Because of the yawn. Not because of the yawn. He rubbed the wetness away and got up. He trailed a hand against the wall to guide himself to the door, pulled it open with more difficulty than necessary.

 

The wish he hadn’t wished. Or maybe he had wished it.

 

Messy hair, messy clothes, crooked collar and a shoulder revealed. Fluttering eyelids, gentle eyelids, a sharp upper lip that never pronounced any honed word. Slippers, sweatpants, puffy cheeks, sluggish blinks. Junmyeon didn’t know where to look. He looked into the sadness in Baekhyun’s eyes. They felt like his own eyes.

 

"I can’t sleep," Baekhyun whispered, the lights in the hallway haloing his hair, highlighting every strand that stood crooked and straight atop his head.

 

Junmyeon didn’t smile. He didn’t have the energy to. That was okay.

 

"Why?" he asked in a whisper. Not because they were in an apartment building full of sleeping people. Because it felt like it was just them. Baekhyun and Junmyeon. Only them and their loneliness and their sadness and their exhaustion and too many things. That was just too many things.

 

He asked why. Because sometimes, sometimes there was a reason.

 

"My bed is too big," was Baekhyun’s confession to the dead of the night. To Junmyeon.

 

Baekhyun, in his pajamas, with sleep dripping from his eyes but never flooding his body, stood in front of Junmyeon because his bed was too big. And Junmyeon understood. He understood.

 

"Mine is too big too," he confessed back, words more strung up, stretched by the spikes in his throat that enlarged it.

 

They looked at each other. Into each other. Junmyeon was so tired. Baekhyun was too. They could share it. That too, they could share.

 

He opened his door wider and Baekhyun entered. No smile. No word of gratefulness. They didn’t need to. They knew.

 

Baekhyun waited for Junmyeon to close the door instead of heading to the living room like he usually would. Not today. Not today. Not the living room. Junmyeon silently headed to the bedroom, guided by the muffled bareness of Baekhyun’s footsteps behind him. Slippers left in front of the door.

 

The lights were already turned on when they reached the bedroom and stood there. Junmyeon stood there, in the middle of his room, and looked at it like he was seeing it for the first time, through Baekhyun’s eyes. Crowded with mess. Yet so empty. He didn’t know what to do. What to say. This was unfamiliar. He didn’t hate it. He needed it. He hadn’t realized until Baekhyun had rang his doorbell. He realized.

 

"It’s so dusty," he murmured. They were inside now, not in the hallway. It still felt too intimate. More intimate. Baekhyun was filling his bedroom up. "It’s dusty," Junmyeon repeated, looking at his windowsill, at the book that had been laid there years ago and was still there.

 

Maybe that was why he couldn’t breathe here. Hadn’t been able to in years. Forever.

 

Baekhyun walked towards it. Stood in front of the window. Junmyeon approached the bed. Could see the film of dust greying the front cover. Watched as Baekhyun pressed a finger on it and then moved it. Junmyeon could see it.

 

Baekhyun turned around. Still didn’t smile. Still felt just as cajoling, complementing.

 

"It’s not dust anymore. It’s a flower now."

 

Junmyeon could see it. The flower drawn on the dusty book. A small round and then petals around it. Easy. So easy. Baekhyun had made it so easy. That shift. From dust to a flower. Easier to breathe now.

 

"Flowers make everything better," Baekhyun sighed, staring at it.

 

He walked to the bed then, towards Junmyeon who turned around and moved to lay on it, Baekhyun following after. He turned the lights off. It wasn’t that hard to adjust to a second person in the bed. Junmyeon had slept on one side all his life. Waiting. Endlessly waiting.

 

With Baekhyun there, laying in front of him, looking at him, their folded knees almost touching, their hands tucked under the pillows, Junmyeon wasn’t waiting anymore. He was looking. Being looked at. He didn’t feel that small anymore. Didn’t feel stuffed. Only felt right. Just tailored for his bed. With Baekhyun there.

 

They said nothing. Waiting. Not for the other to speak, but for sleep to come.

 

And it did. Quicker than ever. Better than ever. With Baekhyun’s eyes the last thing he saw before closing his own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes again, it was morning. His alarm hadn’t rang yet, his body had woken him up on its own.

 

He felt well-rested. Like he had slept. Truly slept. He hadn’t felt this in a long time. He turned to lay on his side instead of his front and his feet kicked the blanket in surprise when he noticed his bed wasn’t empty.

 

Wide-eyed, drowsy, but more energized than ever, Junmyeon stayed there and stared. At Baekhyun. Who had rang his bell last night because his bed was too big. Who was still there, lying close to him. They hadn’t touched even once through the night, the bed was big enough for them to sleep without having to. And yet, Baekhyun’s presence had been a cradling sensation that had lasted all night.

 

He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, watching it shift on top of Baekhyun too and tickle his chin. He was sleeping on his back, head somehow tilted down enough for Junmyeon to see the wrinkle of his double chin. Cute. His eyes were closed, but his eyelids were special. Always so velvety. Like the cloudy dreams of his slumber were apparent through the skin of his eyes. Junmyeon hoped he was seeing the happiest of dreams.

 

He curled into himself and tucked his hands between his knees. He stared more. Baekhyun’s hair looked like a square. Flopping on either sides of his forehead, leaving the center of it bare. It was dark, the blinds were pulled down, the lights turned off, but Junmyeon could tell Baekhyun’s forehead had a sheen to it. It always did, just like his nose. Cute.

 

There was the faint trace of scars on his cheeks. Junmyeon looked at his chin to figure out if Baekhyun had shaved or not. When he didn’t, stubble would still be thin, here and there on his chin and in a line above his upper lip. It looked nice with his mole. Looked cute.

 

Baekhyun wasn’t a perfect sight. He was a faulty sight, with his mussed hair, the pillow lines on his cheek now, and the crust in the corner of his eye. But he was still a sight that made Junmyeon content. Made him feel like this wouldn’t be a great day. It would be a happy day.

 

So that was how it felt. Sleeping with someone. Just sleeping with someone. Not sleeping alone. This was how it felt. Conforming. Relieving. Junmyeon was glad it was with Baekhyun that he experienced this feeling. He was sorry that it was with Baekhyun. Because he didn’t even get out of bed yet but he already started craving it again.

 

But it didn’t pull him down. He sat up as silently and carefully as possible. It was already 7am. Junmyeon glanced at the flower Baekhyun had drawn in the dust of his home, before leaving the room.

 

He had already showered last night so he directly went to the kitchen. Stood there. Stretched his arms over his head, and then stretched his back, and then his arms again, with a yawn this time and a groan. He pressed his lips together. He had to be silent. He wasn’t used to it. The restriction made him smile. He had to be silent because Baekhyun was sleeping in his bedroom.

 

Looking around, he hummed to himself. A song. One he had heard on the radio, right after Baekhyun’s laughter. He went to the balcony, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and a lighter on his way. He felt nice. He didn’t feel like Junmyeon. But he didn’t feel not like himself either. He felt like a happier Junmyeon. Just a little. The weather was nice, the morning fresh but not cold as he stood on his balcony and smoked leisurely. He glanced down at the twin pots on a corner of the balcony. There was no green onions, only the head, not sprouted. Baekhyun had been sad about it for the past two weeks - they didn’t grow anymore.

 

Junmyeon went back inside, to the kitchen, and peeled a big white onion instead. Pajeon worked with those too. He usually didn’t cook himself anything fancy when he went to work, unless Baekhyun was over. He often was over. They often ate breakfast together, sometimes dinner, even more often snacks. His cheeks were slowly getting full again. 

 

A loud and long _ohh_ came behind him when Junmyeon was almost done chopping the onion into long stripes, and he looked over his shoulder. Baekhyun looked mollified in the morning. His smiles looked even more amused in the morning.

 

"I feel like an honorable guest now," he said, coming to stand beside Junmyeon who slid his finger over the flat of the blade to make clingy stripes of onions fall to the cutting board.

 

"You’ll be honorable only if you set the table," Junmyeon retorted with a huff through his smile. 

 

Baekhyun bumped his head against his shoulder before reaching for the plates in the cupboard, grumbling about mistreatment through the cheeks of his grin.

 

They didn’t talk about it. It was the same as every other morning Baekhyun came over for breakfast, every other morning Junmyeon went over for breakfast. The only difference was that that the doorbell had been rang last night and not this morning. Junmyeon wasn’t avoiding the topic, he was just enjoying the moment. It wasn’t even an important topic. Just two lonely souls that didn’t fit in their bed individually.

 

Baekhyun set the table and came back just in time to make the dipping sauce and then steal the pan from Junmyeon to flip the pancake himself for once. He went on to explain the technique for a long moment, showing the right position of the hand, mimicking the right movement, and explaining about degrees and gravity and completely unrelated things that made Junmyeon laugh and then complain because the pancake was probably burning. Baekhyun flipped it successfully, cackling victoriously afterwards before it turned into an embarrassed stream of deep _haha’s_ when Junmyeon pointed out that this side was indeed grilled a bit too much.

 

"How was your sleep?" Junmyeon wondered when they were settled at the table and had already started eating. The batter hadn’t been salted enough, he had put in actual salt instead of soybean paste since he didn’t have any left.

 

Baekhyun, for once, waited to swallow whatever was in his mouth before smiling at Junmyeon, warm and effulgent.

 

"Better than the past few months. And you?"

 

Junmyeon easily pried an onion from the dough. "Better than the past few years," he admitted, voice small, but the contentment in his body broad.

 

He glanced at Baekhyun. That glance turned into a stare when it met a simper, pretty, merry, sunny. No judgement or awkwardness.

 

"Looks like we’re good at sharing a bed too then," Baekhyun joked, pulling laughter out of Junmyeon with his wiggling eyebrows. He smiled. That satisfied smile he always had on whenever he made Junmyeon laugh. Whenever he made Junmyeon happy. Maybe he knew.

 

Maybe they really were good at sharing a bed. At sleeping together. Or maybe it was just Baekhyun’s own magic.

 

He didn’t say that. Instead, he told Baekhyun about that song he had heard on his show, about what he’d like to eat tonight, about this new photography account he had found on Instagram last night.

 

He made small talk. That was his favorite thing to do now. Talking about nothing with Baekhyun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meeting in the company was risky. Meeting outside of it was even riskier.

 

Junmyeon didn’t want anyone to see them or hear them and get suspicious. He was probably too paranoid about it, but this was important.

 

That was why he couldn’t meet everyone at the same time to talk with them, only managing to pass messages through Minyoung and Saehee. Today, Jeha had joined them, all four of them standing in the hallway that led to the staircase people used to smoke. It was empty right now and they were all holding a cup of instant coffee.

 

"I think text messages would be great too but that would reveal your identity, if he ever got his hands on them," Junmyeon said, chewing on his lower lip as he looked between the three of his colleagues.

 

"I don’t think everyone would like to submit screenshots," Minyoung grimaced, looking at the two other women. "But I can do it. I don’t have much, just a few inappropriate questions and hearts," she sighed, crinkling her nose. Junmyeon didn’t even want to imagine what she was told. But he’d see it anyway.

 

"Not everyone has to do this," Junmyeon shook his head, twirling the coffee in his cup with a faint movement of his hand. He had repeated this so many times already but he wanted to stress it again. "I don’t want to pressure anyone."

 

"Maybe," Saehee spoke up, pausing to look at everyone hesitantly. Junmyeon nodded at the same time as Minyoung did. "Maybe we could give you handwritten testimonies?"

 

"Right!" Jeha agreed, resting a hand on Sehee’s arm. "That way they’ll have witnesses’ words but we’ll keep our anonymity."

 

"Yeah, I don’t think they’ll be able to recognize everyone’s handwriting either, right?" Junmyeon asks Minyoung who nodded.

 

"You’re right." She hummed, crossing her arm over her chest and downing the rest of her coffee. Even Junmyeon had a hard time doing that. The coffee here was really bitter. "Maybe we could also take pictures or record anything bad that happens at the next hoesik?"

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together. "Would you be comfortable with that?"

 

"As long as it helps us, in the end?" she hesitated, looking at the other two. "And maybe we could blur our faces or something?" 

 

"Yes. Of course, we can try doing that this week," Junmyeon said, giving her a smile. "And if it works, we’ll collect strong evidence for a while. We shouldn’t rush into this and I don’t think we should talk about it to everyone just yet. Especially not to male employees."

 

"Not even to Jaehwan?" Saehee asked, eyebrows raised.

 

Junmyeon shook his head.

 

"We can’t risk anyone overhearing and reporting it before we even got the occasion to make our move," he said before sighing and looking down at the dark liquid in his cup. "And I don’t want anyone innocent to be blamed and lose their job either."

 

Minyoung rested a hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly, assuringly. Junmyeon looked at her and smiled. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. Maybe she would’ve done it someday, snapped and reported everything herself, but not Junmyeon. 

 

Junmyeon wouldn’t have done, or survived many things in this place without her. He hoped he’d be able to thank her properly someday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon opened his window. For once, it was the June air stifling him and not his house. His house wasn’t as stifling anymore. It wasn’t as empty anymore.

 

A loud bump came from the front door. They hadn’t talked at all today, Junmyeon had been too busy doing his laundry, but he knew it was Baekhyun. His footsteps were rushed as he went to open the door. He furrowed his eyebrows at the stack of magazines Baekhyun was holding, the varicolored covers as bright as his smile.

 

"I’m bored," he announced as Junmyeon stepped back to let him in.

 

"So you just collected every magazine you could find?" he snorted, following Baekhyun into the living room.

 

"At least my house is cleaner now. Contrary to yours," he retorted, kicking an empty cardboard cup of take out coffee. It had been on his floor for more than a week, Baekhyun had seen it there five times.

 

"You can help me clean now that you’re here," Junmyeon shrugged, standing beside the table where Baekhyun put down his pile of magazines.

 

It was clean. Junmyeon kept it clean because Baekhyun often came over to eat, drink, or just spend time with him. They always ate. Or smoked. They put on quite some weight, probably lost quite a bit of their breath together. Baekhyun’s cheeks were fuller now, even if his dark circles were still a blemish on the bright harmony of his features.

 

Baekhyun tapped his hand on the pile of magazines, dropping to his knees on the floor.

 

"We’ll clean," he agreed, smile spreading with the rest of his sentence, "but first, we’ll make some collages."

 

"Some what?" Junmyeon inquired, moving to sit between the couch and the table on the floor, his default spot when Baekhyun was over.

 

"Collages," Baekhyun repeated with a laugh that curved his eyes into joyful notes. Not really music notes. Just Baekhyun notes. "It’s when you cut out pieces from magazines and then stick them together to form another image or something that looks big and full like a painting instead of just one picture."

 

Junmyeon hummed, looking at the magazines. Baekhyun was good with his hands. At gardening, baking, and now even cutting things and putting them back together. Baekhyun was good with his hands. Junmyeon looked at them. Baekhyun was attractive with his hands.

 

"What are we going to do though?" Junmyeon asked, watching Baekhyun pull the first magazine off the pile.

 

"I was thinking we could do ourselves," he proposed, opening up the magazine and looking down at it. His voice fell to a quieter tone when his gaze landed to the pictures nestled between the first two pages. "And we’ll need a picture of our face for that."

 

Junmyeon looked at the pictures. There was many of them, too many of them. He could only see three of them, partially except for the one right on top of that pile too, but he was smiling in all of them. Happy in all three of them with a pretty woman Junmyeon had never before seen by his side.

 

"So you brought every picture you had of you and Hyeran-ssi?" he couldn’t help but question, voice gentle and free of any judgment.

 

"Yes," Baekhyun nodded, resting his palm on the pictures, concealing most of it under his hand. He was smiling, small and nostalgic, not hateful or bitter. "You’re going to throw them away once we’re done."

 

"Me?" Junmyeon said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He wouldn’t be able to do that. It’d feel wrong to throw someone’s memories away. Junmyeon wasn’t even sure getting rid of them was the right thing to do.

 

Baekhyun nodded again, stayed silent for a bit, and swallowed loud enough for Junmyeon to hear it.

 

"I heard that was the best way to get over a break up. But it’s hard." He smiled again, the corners of his lips hiding into his cheeks. Too forced, strained. "So please, do it for me."

 

He looked up at Junmyeon again, palm still resting on his memories. Junmyeon smiled at him, nodded. If that was what Baekhyun needed, he’d do it. Baekhyun’s smile unsharpened at his agreement, shoulders slumping.

 

"Thanks," he said, pushing a different magazine towards him. "I still have all the digital versions anyway. These are just always under my eyes in the house, they’re the ones I want to get rid of. Not everything."

 

Junmyeon was glad. He didn’t know for sure how Baekhyun felt about those pictures but he didn’t like the idea of getting rid of every memory of someone who had once formed the biggest part of one’s life. Even if Baekhyun might never glance back at those pictures again and just bury them in a folder of his computer, good memories should still remain good memories.

 

"I’ll go get a picture of this face," Junmyeon said, patting his own cheek and drawing laughter out of Baekhyun.

 

He had a few ID pics from a few years ago forgotten somewhere in the depth of his house and it took quite some time to find them, but Baekhyun was still patiently waiting for him on his phone when he came back. He put the device down and grinned at Junmyeon, two fingers tapping against the edge of the table like they were drumsticks.

 

They spent a moment comparing their faces and Baekhyun actually went ahead and talked about each of the pictures he had with him. The one from a wedding, one taken on his first date with Hyeran, their honeymoon in Jeju Island, one of his entire family taken during Baekhyun’s mother’s fifty sixth birthday. It was agreeable. Talking with Baekhyun about such an important part of his life, his marriage. Whenever they talked about it, it was all sadness and accusations or bitterness. It was refreshing and reassuring to hear that Baekhyun had been happy with his ex-wife at one point.

 

Baekhyun having forgotten to bring paper sheets, Junmyeon dug in for some of his own, finding only already used sheets with one side printed. Baekhyun accepted them without a problem still and they started. Junmyeon actually was kind of excited about this. It was almost like drawing. He hadn’t done that in weeks.

 

He cut the face of his ID picture, stuck it in the middle of his sheet, and stared at his own features amidst an amassment of void. Stared for a long time, feeling every drip of the excitement bleeding out of him. He was stuck. He didn’t know how to represent himself. He was just Junmyeon. Nothing else.

 

He looked at Baekhyun again. He was already cutting off something from a magazine, frowning when his fingers stuck to the scissors. He had used the glue stick only once but had already stained his fingers. Baekhyun was already starting. Junmyeon had no idea what to do. He still had no idea what to say when Baekhyun looked at him, scissors and magazine page still held in hands. He glanced down at Junmyeon’s sheet and then put everything down.

 

"How about we do each other instead?" he offered, smiling. Easy. Providing a solution. Easy. He always made everything so easy.

 

Junmyeon nodded and they exchanged sheets. He stared at the picture of the bouncy smile on Baekhyun’s face, one of his eyes closed in an enticing wink. Junmyeon had seen him cut it out of a polaroid picture. His hair was blond here, looked almost silvery. It suited him. Happiness.

 

Junmyeon grabbed a few magazines and skimmed through them, occasionally glancing at Baekhyun just for the other to start hiding his work with a magazine opened and put face down between them, his sticky fingers pulling the spine of it as high as possible. It didn’t hide everything and Junmyeon huffed at him but played along and didn’t look at his work again. Baekhyun could get really competitive. And cute. Baekhyun could get really cute too.

 

He skipped through pages and found a glittering top on a mannequin. He cut it out and stuck it under Baekhyun’s head, the neck proportionally too big and adding a funny touch that made Junmyeon snort and Baekhyun eye him curiously. He hid his sheet with his arms. Baekhyun jutted his lip out, the cushiness of it, the rosiness of it, the loveliness of it, and Junmyeon almost pulled his arms away to show the image to him. But he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed down and continued.

 

Strawberries. He stuck them all around Baekhyun, adding a strawberry cake as well somewhere above him. Baekhyun  had once made strawberry cheesecake for them. Junmyeon had eaten it for dinner, dessert, and breakfast. He found music notes and a microphone that he stuck in both hands of the model’s body. For his lower body, Junmyeon cut out the legs of a child wearing bright red shorts. Fitting, somehow. He bit his lower lip as he cut out a big can of beer from an advertisement and placed it under the microphone-holding hand, as if Baekhyun was leaning on it. 

 

He added a bunch of things around, cutting out letters that spelled _I’M LOUD_ , fingers covered in flour, a cup of ramyeon, a foreign album cover, two potted plants that framed the collage on two side of the paper. Colorful little balls that bounced all over. Flowers. He added an entire garden of flowers. A big, purple one that crowned Baekhyun’s head. Vines that surrounded him. Blue flowers running up the model’s legs. Tiny pink flowers on his chest and arms. A pot overflowing with red ones resting on his shoulder. A rain of withered rose petals falling from his fingers.

 

He didn’t know how much time they spent cutting, sticking, cutting more, hiding things from each other, and sticking but by the end of it, Baekhyun stuck his fingers to Junmyeon’s arms. _Actually_ stuck them and laughed while Junmyeon wailed about glue on his skin. How he had even managed to stain his fingers with so much glue was beyond Junmyeon. Beyond adorable.

 

Then, they revealed their artwork. Baekhyun went first, excited and announcing that he’d start before Junmyeon even had the occasion to say anything. He groaned at him and teased him for being an impatient child but Baekhyun shrugged, unmindful, his smile an open mouth, a mischief. A charm.

 

His collage, was much more than Junmyeon had ever thought he could stick on himself. A lot of suits and ties. A lot of mess around him, nonsensical things like a cup of coffee laying sideways, a table crowed with spare chunks of food, books, candles, and miscellaneous things. A flame. Not a lighter, but a flame. He had stuck a glittery top on Junmyeon’s upper body, and glittery pants to his lower body. Junmyeon laughed as he noted that his bare feet were sandy. Dust, probably. 

 

His entire body, though, was surrounded by tiny pieces of papers, all of different, bright colors. Confetti, maybe. 

 

"Fireworks," Baekhyun called them when Junmyeon asked what it was, laugh loud. So loud. Junmyeon couldn’t hear anything else in the endless void of his apartment. No void.

 

It suddenly made sense that his fingers were so sticky. 

 

A hand attached to a different arm was randomly stuck to his head.

 

"What the hell is that?" Junmyeon chortled, pointing at the hand and trying to mimic the worrisome twist at the elbow.

 

Baekhyun whined, groaned, kicking him under the table with a foot. "It’s because sometimes I want to pat your head!" he defended himself, although his smile was probably bigger than Junmyeon’s.

 

Pat. Pat him. Baekhyun wanted to pat him. Junmyeon brought a hand up and dug it into his lips. His cheeks betrayed him, peeking above to smile at Baekhyun.

 

Long lines of yellow paper were surrounding Junmyeon as well, linking him to the very edge of the paper. Baekhyun must’ve seen him staring at them questioningly. He traced a finger over one of them, looking down.

 

"I made you glittery and sparkly and sunlight-y because you kind of bring light to this very sad and dark situation I’m in," he mumbled, a titter accompanying it to disguise his words as a joke. Junmyeon knew him now. Knew it wasn’t really a joke.

 

It made him feel glittery and sparkly and sunlight-y. Fuzzy. Free. Knowing that this was what he was to someone. To Baekhyun. Especially to Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun demanded to see Junmyeon’s collage then and he hesitated a bit. It wasn’t as good as Baekhyun’s. But he didn’t mind. He showed it to him and observed Baekhyun while he analyzed every single object stuck to the paper. He didn’t make any commentary, just looked, smile faint, hands tucked somewhere under the table, shoulders raised just a little.

 

He looked nice there. In his place. Amongst the dust and the messiness and Junmyeon’s loneliness. He overpowered it all. All of it.

 

"There’s so many flowers," were the first words Baekhyun said, voice much lower than Junmyeon had expected.

 

His smile was big. Too big. Enough for it not to be a perfect smile, for it to scrunch his features a little. Unconfined joy.

 

"You said flowers made everything better," Junmyeon admitted, revealing his whole trail of thoughts behind the collage, shrugging, tucking his hands between his legs.

 

He wasn’t talking about the collage. Baekhyun knew.

 

Bringing his hands up, Baekhyun joined them at the base of his palms and spread each hand along either side of his jaw in the typical flower pose. He blinked quickly, innocently, exaggeratedly, smile wide enough to mush his words into cheese.

 

"Am I a flower to you then, hyung?"

 

Junmyeon grabbed skinny pieces of paper left from the cutouts and threw a handful of it to Baekhyun’s face, watching them spread around him like confetti as he laughed a broken laugh that was more heaved-in air than sound. He retaliated by scrunching a page up into a ball and throwing it at Junmyeon’s nose.

 

They laughed. Messed up Junmyeon’s apartment a little more. Junmyeon won by digging a knee into Baekhyun’s stomach and keeping him in place while hitting his head with the smallest magazine they had.

 

Baekhyun screeched his surrender and promised to buy pizza if Junmyeon left his handsome face alone. Junmyeon did.

 

He pulled away, knocking his back against the table. A second of silence. Of staring. And then Baekhyun burst into laughter, rolling on the ground, pulling Junmyeon along, figuratively and literally. They laid on his living room floor and laughed, their merriment packing the house whole.

 

He was right. 

 

Flowers suited Baekhyun.

 

He made everything better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon couldn’t sleep.

 

He felt like he couldn’t plug into sleep. Like he didn’t fit. Like he was deformed and couldn’t plug into it anymore.

 

He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling. He turned around, laying on his side. Turned around again to avoid the lump of vacancy on the other side of his bed. It would be easier if he just could sleep in the middle. Then this bed would feel like a giant single bed and not a king sized bed made to fit two people. But he couldn’t. That place was for someone.

 

Someone. Baekhyun. Last time he had slept was with Baekhyun.

 

He craved it. The sleep. A good night’s rest. Baekhyun’s presence right behind him, right in front of him, even as his eyes were closed and he couldn’t feel anything else.

 

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to cry. Because he couldn’t sleep. Because of reasons he didn’t know.

 

He wanted Baekhyun to knock on his door and ask to sleep with him without really asking to sleep with him.

 

Baekhyun had knocked on his door because he couldn’t sleep. Junmyeon could do it too. He sat up. Laid back down. No. It was embarrassing. Stupid. But. He missed it. He missed something he had only experienced once. He sat up again. He could do it. He could ask without asking, like Baekhyun. That way, he wouldn’t really be rejected. 

 

He got out of bed, got out of his bedroom after glancing at the dusty flower drawn in the dust of the dusty book on his dusty windowsill. He got out of his house, got into the hallway, stood in front of Baekhyun’s door. Paced. Went back to his apartment. Got out again before he could even close the door and rang the bell before he could stop his finger from doing it by biting into it harshly.

 

He stood there and waited. The door opened after Junmyeon mentally hit himself a hundred times. Closed eyelids, parted lips, unruly hair, bare feet. Baekhyun had been asleep. Junmyeon hated himself. He should go back. He should bury himself in his bed, under his bed. He should laugh it off. He should disappear. He should—

 

"What’s wrong?"

 

Low voice. Hoarse. Scratchy. Not snappy. A frown. Not angry. Concerned. A step forward, eyes fluttering before opening up more. Scanning Junmyeon’s messy tank top, his messy shorts, his bare feet. He hadn’t even worn his slippers. 

 

And it just spilled. Just spilled out of him. Because Baekhyun was as appeasing as all the pictures of flowers Junmyeon had taken through his whole life, with sunlight hitting the petals right, the sky a peaceful spread amongst leaves. Because he was used to looking at those pictures. Because he was used to looking at Baekhyun, talking to Baekhyun. Living with Baekhyun.

 

"I can’t sleep," Junmyeon whispered. He wanted to cry. This was embarrassing. Almost humiliating. Baekhyun had done the same thing a few weeks ago but this was so difficult. To Junmyeon.

 

Baekhyun didn’t ask why. He didn’t. He reached, rested his fingers around Junmyeon’s wrist. There was no glue. Junmyeon still felt them sticking to his core as Baekhyun pulled him forward. Forward. Forward. Into the bedroom. Baekhyun always pulled him forward.

 

Junmyeon had never entered the bedroom. He didn’t look around, barely even cared. He wasn’t here for the bedroom. He was here for Baekhyun. 

 

Baekhyun who sat him down on the bed, silent. Junmyeon said nothing, let him guide him, not limp, just reliant. There was only one pillow on the bed. Baekhyun blinked, shook his head. He looked asleep. He looked like the dreams Junmyeon wished he could easily envision after easily closing his eyes. Junmyeon pinched the bare skin on the side of his knee. He was sleepy. Tired. So sleepy.

 

He watched as Baekhyun dropped to the floor and reached under the bed. He retrieved a pillow. The second pillow. The case didn’t match the one of the pillow already wrinkled on the bed. In the middle. Baekhyun slept in the middle of the bed. Right. Maybe if Junmyeon took away the second pillow too, his bed would feel fit for one single person.

 

"It’s dusty," Baekhyun mumbled, sitting the pillow next to Junmyeon whose hands were now limp on his lap, back hunched, shoulders limp. He looked a little more awake. His eyes were fully opened at least, even if his voice was still a croak.

 

Junmyeon didn’t mind dusty. Junmyeon lived dusty.

 

He turned around and walked to the closet, rummaged inside, and pulled out a pillow case. It wasn’t one that matched the bedsheets. It wasn’t a grey one with black stripes. It was a white one with red and pink flowers. Baekhyun plopped down next to Junmyeon with a loud groan after grabbing the pillow. Shoulder, arm, thigh pressed against Junmyeon. He shook the pillow out of its case. He struggled to put the other one on, fingers stuck between the opening of the case and the half of the pillow that was squeezed inside. He dropped everything to his lap, fingers still stuck there. He looked at Junmyeon. His lips twitched and they started laughing at the same time.

 

Junmyeon’s eyes were watery when he helped Baekhyun get his fingers out of there and then held on the ears of the case while Baekhyun basically punched the pillow into it, each dig of his fist into the pillow jumping laughter out of Junmyeon and himself. Once done, he crashed his head against Junmyeon’s shoulder and groaned like a beast. Laughter. Junmyeon’s shoulders shaking until Baekhyun bumped his nose against the bony end of it. More laughter.

 

They laid down, facing each other, heads resting on mismatched pillows. Fitting. Junmyeon felt himself moulding perfectly to this bed. Baekhyun smiled at him, cheek squished against his pillow. Then, Junmyeon felt cold toes trailing up his thigh. With a whiny chortle, he kicked Baekhyun’s leg. Baekhyun grumbled about rude people kicking him in his own bed and then moved closer to Junmyeon, until he was at the very edge of his own pillow, until all Junmyeon could see was his memorable grin. It didn’t take a lot. It truly didn’t.

 

Junmyeon didn’t feel like crying anymore. He still felt tired and sleepy but it wasn’t burdensome any longer. Baekhyun didn’t look asleep. He looked content.

 

Silence, fluttering eyes, staring eyes. No lights, blinds pulled down, the bare skin of their legs sometimes brushing together. Shivers.

 

"What do you do when you can’t sleep usually?" Junmyeon wondered in a hush after a while of mapping out Baekhyun’s face, of Baekhyun mapping out his face like it was a competition he couldn’t lose.

 

Baekhyun hummed. It was the hum Junmyeon heard in his earphones when listening to Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy. It felt deeper from this close, when there was no barrier between sound and ears. Felt like Junmyeon could curl himself in Baekhyun’s voice and stay there forever. Safe and sound.

 

"I usually watch ASMR," Baekhyun said, humming more. His words sounded curved. Tugged up. Smiley. "Or just wait for sleep to come. But hearing a voice usually helps."

 

Junmyeon hummed in agreement. It truly did. Hearing a voice. Feeling a presence. Baekhyun.

 

"What about you?" Baekhyun asked in a sigh, a drowsy one. Junmyeon watched him close his eyes. Watched his closed eyes. He wondered if it would feel cloudy if he grazed his fingertips on his eyelids. His lips. Maybe his lips.

 

He pressed his lips together.

 

"I just," pause, a deep breath, "hum to myself."

 

"Does it work?" Baekhyun asked, hand sliding over the bed to slither under his pillow. 

 

"Sometimes," Junmyeon said, hand sliding over the bed to slither under his pillow. He could knock his elbow against Baekhyun’s if he wanted to. But he didn’t. Baekhyun looked too at peace to be disturbed.

 

"Hum for me then, hyung." Last word broadened into a yawn.

 

Junmyeon smiled. Closed his eyes. Rubbed his cheek against the flowers Baekhyun put on his pillow. His leg grazed another. So unfamiliar. He felt hair against his skin. It wasn’t unpleasant. Gratifying. Just to feel something other than a blanket when he moved in bed. To feel Baekhyun. 

 

He hummed. For a while. That first song he had heard the very first time he had tuned in to Baekhyun’s radio show. 

 

It didn’t feel like he was curled up on his couch, recoiling from messiness and dusty loneliness that felt like stony loneliness. Because Baekhyun started humming along with him soon. Junmyeon kept his eyes closed. Heard his smile. Hummed. They hummed.

 

The last thing that echoed in his head was Baekhyun’s small, slow, sleep-dusted voice singing under his breath, singing _still you, still you want me._

 

Junmyeon hummed, for Baekhyun, for himself, a last time, before drifting off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You’re taking care of yourself a little more now," Minseok said as he put down two mugs of tea on the table, on top of two tissues he had folded into squares earlier.

 

That was the kind of overly-clean life his best friend lived. Junmyeon drew a lot of amusement from it. Especially when he _accidentally_ messed up Minseok’s living room or said something mildly upsetting that shot Minseok up to his feet and made him vacuum the whole room.

 

"Am I?" Junmyeon asked, dragging his gaze away from the random drama on the television to look at Minseok as he slumped on the couch, next to him.

 

He looked at Junmyeon, humming, blinking a few times. "You look better."

 

Junmyeon grabbed his mug and dangerously tilted it, eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I looked bad before?"

 

Minseok gave him an unamused look and then laughed when Junmyeon took a sip of his tea to conceal his sulking.

 

"Not really. It’s not like something in you looks better, you don’t look healthier or more handsome," Minseok said, ignoring Junmyeon’s offended look. "It’s just a feeling. You look like you feel better."

 

Junmyeon put his mug back down and unbuttoned his shirt. He should’ve swung by home and changed before coming here. He was still wearing his work clothes and it was way too hot for this. Maybe he should steal shorts and a tank top from Minseok.

 

He thought about it. About whether he felt better or not. He still felt lonely sometimes. He still felt ordinary. But he also didn’t feel as enclosed. Into his life. Into himself.

 

"I guess having a new friend helps," he admitted. Baekhyun didn’t transform him or anything. Didn’t influence his emotions, his feelings about his work, his choices taken at the bank, but he helped. Helped pull Junmyeon out of himself. And everything that was in himself. "At least I don’t always only see your overly nagging face anymore," he added, with a playful shrug that was cut off when Minseok dug his fingers into his shoulder.

 

"A friend," he said as Junmyeon tilted away from him with a laugh. "Right," he added, stretching his vowel unnecessarily.

 

Junmyeon grimaced at him. They’d talked about it before. How much time Junmyeon spent with Baekhyun. Much more time than he spent with Minseok. He didn’t want to talk about it.

 

Instead, he asked Minseok about his crush on yet another straight man he built the body of at the gym. It took the spotlight away from him and was very fun to listen to.

 

He’d think about everything else later. Much later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon walked back to his apartment with a video he wished he had never needed to record in his pocket.

 

It had been the perfection occasion. Minyoung had asked him to record it. Mr. Yoo’s arm brushing against her thigh under the table as he supported himself on one hand, sat on the ground of the usual restaurant they held their hoesik at. She had been wearing a skirt, like she usually was, and no matter how much she veered off to the side to put distance between them, Mr. Yoo kept slouching and sliding his hand over the floor so his arm would brush her thigh.

 

Junmyeon had done his best to discreetly film his face without getting Minyoung’s into the shot. Only half of his face was there but he hoped it would be enough along with the voices all around them and Mr. Yoo’s own. He had felt like retching the whole time he had recorded it. Minyoung had looked both more uneasy and more determined than ever. He had sent her the video on his way home, had said that they could either use it or he could delete it if she didn’t feel good about it. When he had started this whole thing, Junmyeon hadn’t thought that they would need evidence, yet alone this kind of revolting image. 

 

If he felt like that, he couldn’t even imagine how Minyoung and many other female employees must feel. Perhaps on a daily basis.

 

When he entered the apartment building and turned towards his door, hands clenching his phone in the pocket of his slacks, Baekhyun was waiting for him there. He was leaning against the door, and was cradling a pot in his hands, leaves and dark pink petals.

 

"How was it?" he asked when Junmyeon was close enough, pushing himself off the door.

 

"I got the video," he told him with a bulky sigh, reaching for the lock-pad.

 

"I’m proud of you," Baekhyun said, patting his shoulder with as much delicacy as he had whenever he touched petals or potted green onions.

 

Junmyeon smiled, small, tired, but cajoled as he pushed the door open and motioned at Baekhyun to step in first.

 

"Where do you wanna put my gift to you?" Baekhyun asked, swaying the pot in his arms like a baby as he stood there and waited for Junmyeon to take his shoes off. He didn’t wear his slippers, Baekhyun was barefoot too.

 

He looked at the pot. It was small. He didn’t know what species it was and it didn’t matter. They were pretty.

 

"In my bedroom," Junmyeon decided, already heading to that direction.

 

"That’s an unusual place to put it in," Baekhyun noted as he followed behind him. "People put it in the living room or the kitchen usually."

 

As they stepped into the bedroom, Junmyeon veered between the dirty clothes on the floor to stand in front of the window. The flower was still there, on his textbook. Barely there, already dusty but the layer sparser than the thicker dust all over the cover. It might disappear soon.

 

"I want to put it here," Junmyeon said, looking at Baekhyun for his approval. He was the sunlight and flowers expert, after all.

 

"Oh, my flower is still there," Baekhyun noticed, probably with more surprise than necessary since he knew how adverse to cleaning Junmyeon was. With a simper, he set the pot to the opposite side of the windowsill and patted the rim while looking at the flower on the book. "It has a friend now."

 

"It does," Junmyeon smiled, looking around his room. "It also makes the place look nicer."

 

"It would look nicer if you cleaned but I gotta admit flowers do make everything better," Baekhyun shrugged cheekily, shrugging once and twice more when Junmyeon gave him a look.

 

"How about we order chicken and sit around it with our friend beer then?" Junmyeon then offered, loosening his tie.

 

Baekhyun grimaced in his laughter and pushed him with a hand on his shoulder. "Why do you have to put it so lamely like this that?"

 

"What, it’s true!" Junmyeon defended himself, stumbling backwards a little.

 

Baekhyun tutted at him and went out of the bedroom while announcing that he’d call to place their order.

 

As usual, they drank, ate, and smoked together. Laughed a lot. Enjoyed a lot. The only difference was that once they had finished everything and it was close to midnight, Junmyeon asked Baekhyun if he’d like to stay over. Baekhyun cheered his acceptance loudly, obviously tipsy since he kept insisting that they were having a pajama party. He even refused to go get his own pajamas and asked to borrow a tank top from Junmyeon to wear above his shorts to bed. He went to look for it on his own and it turned into them sorting through Junmyeon’s closet and folding everything properly for an hour.

 

In the end, when they went to bed, Baekhyun was wearing a tank top and a pair of Junmyeon’s shorts, just because. He tickled him with his toes, breathed too loudly just to get Junmyeon to smack his cheek with a too weak blow, and kept poking him at random times right when Junmyeon closed his eyes to sleep.

 

He still filled the bed perfectly, filled the cut of his clothes perfectly, filled the break in-between notes of Junmyeon’s laughter perfectly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kris Wu’s _July_ played in his ears as Junmyeon pushed the door of his bedroom open and crashed on his bed.

 

Baekhyun had laughed about it. About how many songs there were about July but never April or November. His laughter had sounded puffy, in Junmyeon’s earphones. It was a nice song. Junmyeon unplugged his earphones to let the radio play freely and occupy his whole room.

 

His bed felt wrong. His room felt wrong. Junmyeon needed a cigarette. The space laying next to him felt wrong. It was much, much bigger than Baekhyun was. Junmyeon laid his phone on the pillow. Baekhyun had slept here a grand total of four times. It was still his pillow now. He had slept over at Baekhyun’s a total of three times. The second pillow wasn’t under the bed anymore but in the closet in Baekhyun’s bedroom. Junmyeon got it out whenever he was there to stay the night.

 

They had slept together seven times. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to the thousands of nights Junmyeon had struggled to find room in his big bed for his small body. And yet, it felt wrong to struggle so much now. He never did when Baekhyun was there.

 

He sat up. Took his tie off. Then his shirt off. Then his pants off. Laid back down. It was too hot. He didn’t like July. The song faded away and commercials started. Junmyeon closed his eyes for a bit. 

 

When he opened them again, an hour had passed. An useless hour. Wasted. Like all his hours spent alone in this house. He stood up and went to the living room. He grabbed a pair of shorts from the floor on his way and put it on, leaving his upper body bare. He slid the balcony window open, plopped on his couch, and smoked. A cigarette. Two. He entertained himself by watching the ghastly swirls form shapes and then vanish. He got up, went back to his room, and came back with his phone. Baekhyun was talking to someone that wasn’t Junmyeon.

 

He felt sulky. He sighed and only listened to Baekhyun’s voice, not really paying attention to the other person or whatever they were talking about. He got his sketchbook  out. Skimmed through the drawings. Drew a chibi of Jaehwan sleeping on the table of his booth, drooling. He closed his sketchbook  again. Grabbed his phone and went to the bedroom to lay down again.

 

Music. He listened. Nice songs, always nice songs. He didn’t feel like a nice song. He didn’t feel like a bad song either. He just felt whiny. Lonely.

 

The music stopped and Junmyeon heard the whistling of birds and then the wash of waves against the shore. He looked at the flower in front of his window.

 

"Loving someone," Baekhyun said, the depth and volume of his voice laying over the summery sounds in the background with harmony. Or perhaps Baekhyun’s voice was the summery sound and everything else didn’t matter. "It’s such a nice feeling that it makes everything else bland, doesn’t it?"

 

Junmyeon watched dust swaying above the lively pigment of the petals, highlighted by the sunlight falling over the window. He had watered the flower everyday. Then Baekhyun had scolded him about it and came in once every two days to check up on it to make sure Junmyeon wouldn’t kill it, like with the onions. 

 

"You’re happy when they’re by your side. You smile when they smile at you. You look at them. Just look at them. Just because they’re _that person_."

 

Warm. So warm. That was the kind of warmth Junmyeon liked. The warmth of Baekhyun’s voice. Not July. Not May. Not August. Baekhyun. Just Baekhyun.

 

He closed his eyes. 

 

Junmyeon would never let that flower die. He hadn’t said that to Baekhyun. 

 

"You wish they’d never leave." Plumose. Every caress of Baekhyun’s words spreading through the room, satiating every abysm in it, and then finding Junmyeon’s ears, Junmyeon’s head, Junmyeon. "Even if you’re not doing anything with them. Nothing special. Just sitting together with them, watching a silly show on the television, talking about nothing with each other, perhaps holding hands, just looking at each other. Doesn’t doing these insignificant things with them just feel like heaven?"

 

It does. Junmyeon took a deep breath in, wished he could inhale the faint but lively velvet of Baekhyun’s voice and keep it inside of him forever.

 

He opened his eyes. Looked at his phone. Looked at the pillow.

 

"That person can make your whole day better. Just by looking at you, hearing you, talking to you."

 

Baekhyun’s voice was on Junmyeon’s pillow.

 

It wasn’t enough.

 

He could feel it wrapping all around him, curling all around him, puffing up everything in him. Making every color around him sprightlier.

 

It wasn’t enough.

 

"Do you have that kind of person in your life, everyone?" Tender. So sweet. Like the sugary smell of Baekhyun’s house whenever he was baking something and called for Junmyeon. Through a knock on the door. A yell on the other side of the wall. "Someone who takes care of you just by being there. Someone who makes everything just a little easier. Without even doing anything. Just like magic."

 

Junmyeon curled up closer to his phone, folding into himself, keeping his eyes closed. He felt tight. Tightened. In his throat, in his chest.

 

He wished Baekhyun wasn’t just a voice through the radio. He wished Baekhyun was here. He wished it as if he had been wishing it for a hundred years spent without him.

 

He wished Baekhyun was here to pat his head until he slept. He wished Baekhyun was here to hum to him. He wished Baekhyun. 

 

Not a presence, not someone, not anyone, but Baekhyun. Just Baekhyun. Not _just_ Baekhyun. Baekhyun wasn’t a _just._ He was grand enough for Junmyeon not to even figure out how to describe him. He was Baekhyun.

 

He missed. Longed. Junmyeon longed. So much that he felt tiny, a drop in a sea of pining.

 

Junmyeon longed. Not for a presence. Not for anyone’s presence. Not for Baekhyun’s presence. Not anymore. He longed for Baekhyun.

 

"If you have someone like that, someone who makes you feel like that, you’re in love. I’m so happy you have that feeling in you. I’m so glad you can feel that."

 

That was it.

 

That was entirely it.

 

Love.

 

"Today too, thank you for finding Baekhyun’s Bouquet of Joy. Tonight, my parting gift to you will be Taeyeon’s _All With You_."

 

Junmyeon had found it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun was a lot of things.

 

Not to Junmyeon only. He was just a lot of things. A lot of things to take in, a lot of things to hear, a lot of things to tell to, a lot of things to see. A lot of things that took up a lot of room.

 

There was just so many things to see about Baekhyun.

 

The way his bangs ruffled with the wind, one strand sometimes standing atop his head and falling back down along with the breeze, sometimes staying there for the whole morning. Perhaps Baekhyun was so good at gardening that he had grown a bean sprout in his own mind, in his own head.

 

The way he smiled. Always smiled. Put so many things in his smile. His sorrows, in the narrow curve of his lips. His happiness, glinting in his teeth, cute, small teeth that probably wouldn’t seem small and cute if they had been anyone else’s. His mischief, in the corners of his mouth, keeping them constantly tugged up, keeping Junmyeon on edge for a single note of laughter that he knew could burst out and stuff him whole at any moment. His cupid’s bow. There wasn’t anything particular in there. Junmyeon just wanted to touch it, trace it with the tip of his finger. Up, down, up down, and then, and then maybe, just maybe. Kiss it. 

 

Baekhyun tapped a finger against the guardrail. A long finger that commanded Junmyeon’s attention. He gave it to that finger in a breath. Smooth knuckles, long digits, a big hand. Baekhyun could fit him there, Junmyeon’s own fingers, his hand, his heart. He was small enough.

 

Had Junmyeon noticed all this before? Or was he looking at Baekhyun with new eyes now? 

 

"I forgot my lighter at home," Baekhyun said then, with a sigh that pushed his shoulders down.

 

Junmyeon reached for the lighter in the pocket of his shorts. Baekhyun looked at him and grinned. Baekhyun always forgot his lighter at home. Always used Junmyeon’s lighter whenever he came over. It made Junmyeon happy, for some reason. 

 

He watched as Baekhyun grabbed a cigarette from his pack, pulling it out by nudging it between his lips rather than his fingers. He had to stop doing that. Junmyeon had never found smoking particularly attractive, it wasn’t a feature that made anyone more attractive and it would be stupid to think so. He hadn’t started smoking because he wanted to be cool, edgy, or even trendy. He had started smoking because he couldn’t breathe, back at the military base, sleeping in a room full of people, living in a place full of people. Not the nicest. Not the baddest. Just people. Baekhyun hadn’t either. He had started smoking because it was either that or screaming at strangers, screaming at himself, screaming back at Hyeran when she screamed at him. 

 

But when Baekhyun did that, pulled his cigarette out like that, eyes droopy, lips rosy, and jawline flashy, Junmyeon couldn’t help but find it one of the most attractive sights he had ever witnessed.

 

Perhaps Junmyeon was a little stupid. A little in love.

 

Stick between his lips, Baekhyun turned towards him. His hair flopped a little with the wind, like the ears of a playful puppy. Junmyeon was still holding his lighter but he raised it higher for Baekhyun to grab it. He didn’t. Instead, the orange of the end of his cigarette somehow rubified the tint of his lips, made his smile and his eyes shinier as he leaned closer to Junmyeon instead of grabbing the lighter. 

 

Junmyeon’s chest felt full before he even took a deep breath in. His thumb trembled a little when he snapped it to ignite a flame that he brought to Baekhyun’s cigarette. It wasn’t the cigarette he was staring at. 

 

He lowered his hand, cut of the flame off, and watched Baekhyun suck in before lowering the stick, keeping his mouth open for an additional breath in, and then blowing the smoke out again. He did so right into Junmyeon’s face. They did that sometimes. Because neither of them minded. Now, Junmyeon was beyond that. He liked it. The greyed out jest in the twitch of Baekhyun’s cheeks. The smoke he breathed in from Baekhyun’s mouth, the swirls he couldn’t really feel on his face but could still imagine caressing his lips. This was kind of like an indirect breath. An indirect kiss.

 

Perhaps Junmyeon was getting a little desperate.

 

He stole a cigarette from Baekhyun’s pack. They did that too sometimes. Shared. He slouched, forearms folding on the guardrail, and tried blowing the smoke out of his nose. Baekhyun let out a nebulous titter next to him. Junmyeon looked at him with a scrunched nose. That meant he had failed again.

 

"It’s alright. One day, you’ll do it, hyung," Baekhyun said, giving Junmyeon a teasing pat on the head. He fit. Junmyeon fit just right under Baekhyun’s hand. 

 

He took a longer drag than necessary. The smoke in his throat felt hotter than usual. He still couldn’t figure out what it was about Baekhyun and the word _hyung_. 

 

He mushed his cheek against his forearm, stayed there, and smoked. He glanced at Baekhyun between each drag. He suited the smell of cigarettes. He suited the light haloing him from Junmyeon’s living room. He suited Junmyeon’s balcony. He suited Junmyeon. 

 

He had come here with a bag of takeout right after his show. Junmyeon had been playing _All With You_ on repeat since Baekhyun had played it on the radio earlier. He still felt the contentment and appeasement of that song beating in him. Or perhaps it was something else that was beating.

 

Junmyeon should ask Baekhyun to stay over. He wanted to sleep with him. Just sleep with him and then wake up with him and start his day with his smile and his drowsy, whiny _hyung._ Start his day with completion.

 

"Can I stay over, hyung?" Baekhyun asked, looking down to meet Junmyeon’s gaze.

 

It jumped Junmyeon’s cheeks into a grin. He didn’t try concealing it. Concealing how much he liked this.

 

"It depends," he still said though, just because this was Baekhyun and he made Junmyeon giddy enough to want to make some jokes from time to time. "What will you pay me?"

 

He straightened up as Baekhyun comically looked skywards and hummed. Then, he brought his hands on either side of his jaw in the flower pose, blinking too quickly and mushing his voice into exaggerated cuteness - but not forced. 

 

"Dreams full of my cute face?"

 

Junmyeon locked him out on the balcony and only let him in the living room when Baekhyun made faces that were funny enough to make him cry from laughter on the other side of the glass door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon closed the door behind him and closed his eyes too, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

 

The entire building felt muted after having spent less than two minutes being yelled at by his boss. For a mistake the man had committed himself.

 

He opened his eyes again and adjusted his tie, staring at the dusty leaves on the potted plant decorating the hallway. It had been here for years. No one paid attention to it. Junmyeon wished it was the same for him.

 

He wished he could say no when someone asked him to go see Mr. Yoo in their stead. They knew it was a matter that would make him angry, would make him yell at them. Junmyeon knew too. He was perfectly aware of what made the man angry, after so many years. He was a senior to most employees here. He still said yes. Still went into that office to get yelled at. Still couldn’t say no, because he knew how bad it would be.

 

Not everyone was used to the level of mediocrity and cruelty this man allied in every word he screamed with beady eyes and a sour twist to his mouth. Junmyeon wasn’t either. He had heard those words hundreds of times before. Useless. Incompetent. Unworthy of working here. Never doing anything right. Would sink this place down with his stupidity. I should fire you and get someone much better instead.

 

Junmyeon wished he did. Sometimes, he did.

 

He stepped forward and finally let go of the doorknob when he heard the clacking footsteps of Minyoung’s high heels. He smiled at her, a bit crooked, but hopefully reassuring. She didn’t smile back, stood a few steps away, and Junmyeon walked to her with a sigh.

 

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully, partially because they were in the hallway.

 

Junmyeon nodded, shrugged, and shook his head. "Nothing I’m not used to," he reassured her with a smile.

 

He didn’t really take those words to heart anymore, didn’t particularly think a man who worked less than him had the right to decide whether he was useless or not. But it still didn’t feel too nice to hear those things yelled at him.

 

She pressed her lips together. She understood. She looked down, ponytail swishing, and then held her hand out to Junmyeon, a USB stick resting on her palm.

 

"What’s that?" Junmyeon asked, grabbing it and studying it as if the answer would be written on it rather than inside of it.

 

"Screenshots," MInyoung sighed, adjusting her blouse, tucking it back into her skirt even if it was barely even messy or creased. "Of text conversations. Evidence."

 

Junmyeon enclosed the tiny device into his fist, and then shoved it into his pocket. 

 

"We’ll be able to do this soon," he announced, a heavy statement that lightened the weight on the base of his nape.

 

"Soon," Minyoung repeated, looking at him with an unwavering smile that reassured him.

 

He couldn’t wait to do this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had missed this.

 

That was the very first thought crossing his mind as soon as his mother opened the door and gasped as if she hadn’t been expecting him for a week already, since the day they had scheduled this. She took him into her arms. She was shorter than him, he could fit his chin on top of her head, but Junmyeon still felt short, young, and incredibly inexperienced in her embrace. He hugged her back, tighter. He still felt like he had a place in her hugs.

 

"Did you get taller?" she asked as she pulled away, squinting at him, hands still holding onto his arms as she assessed him whole.

 

Junmyeon laughed around the enclosure in his throat. He felt like crying. He didn’t know why.

 

"I’ve stopped growing a long time ago, mom," he teased her, reaching to pat her head.

 

He always did that. Used to do that. Teasing her for being shorter than him. Feeling proud because he was taller than his mom, as if it was some huge achievement. She had always laughed, whined, and then hugged him. She considered his height a huge achievement. She still did. She laughed, whined, and then hugged him.

 

Junmyeon hugged her back, swaying her a little, and then looking up when he heard his father calling from somewhere over her shoulder. Then, he saw him rushing towards them with quick steps. Junmyeon laughed and told him not to fall. His father didn’t listen and chided him for not having called right before coming. Junmyeon hugged him too, briefer, more patting than hugging, and then they smiled at each other.

 

He had more grey hairs that the last time Junmyeon had seen him. His parents were getting older. He didn’t know why that made him want to cry too. His parents weren’t supposed to get older, weren’t supposed to change. Junmyeon should visit them often. More often. He should. He really should. He couldn’t.

 

They all got in, both of them ushering him inside, and the table was already almost set. His mother told him to just sit down and that they would do the rest but Junmyeon preferred helping, preferred spending time with them. So his father sat down instead and that was the perfect occasion for his mother to start complaining about every wrongdoings of his to Junmyeon since the last time they had talked. He listened with a smile as he filled bowls with rice, travelled to the living room with dishes, stood and waited for her to give him orders. He had missed this. How easy it was to be here.

 

Being here was easy. Bringing himself here, that was harder.

 

But it was comfortable. Eating, taking a break from eating and immediately starting again when his mother asked if he wanted another bowl of rice, if he wanted this side dish, if he was already full when he hadn’t even eaten much yet. Talking with his father, about baseball, about his fishing hobby, laughing at all his bad jokes as his mother judged them while drinking her water. Talking about whatever everyone around here was doing. They’d always been living in this house, they’d always had the same neighbors, and Junmyeon barely remembered the face of some of them, but he still listened.

 

He ate a lot, stuffed himself full with homemade food. He had missed this. His father asked about work and his mother asked if he was okay living on his own, if he needed her to come and clean sometimes. Junmyeon told them he was doing alright at his job, that he was happy there, and that she didn’t need to come and clean because he did just fine on his own. Neither of them said anything about how old he was getting, asked anything about anyone he was seeing, if he was seeing anyone, mentioned marriage. They never did. They left things to his own pace and liking.

 

He told them about his new neighbor. His new friend. Baekhyun. They were happy to hear him talk about someone other than Minseok but still asked about him. Junmyeon told them Minseok had cried when he had refused the invitation along with Junmyeon because he worked until the gym closed today. His mother had laughed a lot. Junmyeon told them a little more about Baekhyun, about potted green onions, about baked biscuits, about radio shows and nice songs.

 

He wanted to tell them more. Tell them he couldn’t get married, but that he was in love. That maybe someday he’d love Baekhyun enough to wish they could get married. But Baekhyun had no idea Junmyeon loved him. His parents had no idea Junmyeon could love a man.

 

They didn’t know anything about him. They didn’t know the biggest part of him. 

 

The rice he chewed on felt like jelly and rocks at the same time in his mouth. His teeth hurt, his jaw hurt, his heart hurt. He wanted to tell them. He was so happy here. He wanted to tell them. Show them. Who their son really was. Wanted them to accept him as he was. They loved him. Maybe they would. Maybe they wouldn’t mind. Maybe it didn’t matter to them at all. That he loved a man.

 

He watched his father pour water into his mother’s glass and crushed his tongue under more rice. The broth he sipped on was too spicy, made his mouth ashy. Junmyeon stayed there, the easiness crumbling down as he said nothing.

 

He couldn’t. He never would. He knew. He just knew. That he would never ever tell them. This was easy. Being here. It would be easy to never be allowed to come back here. It was much much easier not to allow _himself_ to come here.

 

Junmyeon ate, laughed, listened, talked, stared a lot, observed a lot, washed the dishes, and hugged his parents goodbye.

 

He took a taxi back home. He asked the driver if it was possible to turn the radio on. It wasn’t Baekhyun’s voice. Baekhyun didn’t work on weekends, didn’t work at 9pm either. He listened to the song playing and looked out of the window. He didn’t think about anything. Didn’t want to think about anything. Just looked at the cars flashing by with their headlights, quick, loud, yet slow. Just like time.

 

He wanted to curl up on this backseat and fall asleep, wake up in a completely different city and lose his way back forever. But Junmyeon would find it back. Still, he would find it back. Because this was the life he lived. This was the way things were. Some things couldn’t be changed. Some things were just unchangeable. And it was okay. It was totally okay.

 

Junmyeon wasn’t okay as he directly rang Baekhyun’s bell instead of taking three more steps and going to his own house. He wanted a home, not a house.

 

Baekhyun’s smile was boxy when he opened the door. Four walls. Not narrow. Not too big. Fitting. A home.

 

"You didn’t even bring me anything to eat from home?" was the first thing Baekhyun asked, smile scrunching into playful accusation as he grimaced at Junmyeon while closing the door and letting him take his shoes off.

 

Junmyeon never let his mother pack anything for him. It was too much effort from her, he could just buy something to eat every day. He hadn’t thought about this though. But he didn’t like leaving from his parents’ house with something taken from them. He had already taken their son, kept him away, he didn’t want to add more to that.

 

"You can come with me next time," Junmyeon mindlessly suggested.

 

That was what his mother had suggested too. He didn’t know if it was sincere or just a way to tell him to visit again, more often, but she had worded it out. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe Baekhyun would make these visits better, easier to bear with. Easier to make.

 

"Really?" Baekhyun asked, bumping his shoulder against Junmyeon’s as they headed to the living room since he walked too close to him. He always did.

 

Junmyeon hummed, stood in the living room, and closed his eyes, tilting his head and slouching his body to the same side.

 

"I’m sleepy," he mumbled, sighed, keeping his eyes closed. He wanted to cry. He was sad. He couldn’t say it out loud. He just wanted to curl up somewhere, make himself so small it felt like he was disappearing, and then hate that feeling too and get even sadder.

 

"Sleepy people should sleep," Baekhyun said, voice touching Junmyeon’s heart in a cajoling caress before his hand did the same to Junmyeon’s one finger. They never held hands. It was always Baekhyun grabbing his wrist, his arm, his pointer finger.

 

Junmyeon let him. Always let him. Always wondered how it would feel to fit each of his fingers between each of Baekhyun’s. He let him pull him to the bedroom and then let himself crash down on the bed. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, it wasn’t too comfortable but he didn’t care when the bed dipped next to him.

 

"Would it bother you if I stayed here on my phone?" he heard Baekhyun ask, voice so restful it felt like part of the night. Part of Junmyeon.

 

Junmyeon grunted a no. This would be nice. He kept his eyes closed. They usually always slept at the same time, always around midnight. It wasn’t even 10pm. Baekhyun wouldn’t sleep. But he’d stay here while Junmyeon did. Stay here, with him. The thought was enough for the tension in his body to slowly deflate with each exhale. The sadness too. That too.

 

So Junmyeon laid there and went to sleep, in Baekhyun’s bed, not curled up but fully stretched out, with Baekhyun sitting next to him. Sleeping would make him feel better.

 

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed but Baekhyun was still there. Closer. Just a little. Junmyeon’s arm was thrown across his lap, his head nudged to the very edge of his pillow. Baekhyun’s pillow was tucked between his back and the bed’s head. 

 

Junmyeon blinked, over and over again, and Baekhyun looked just as dreamy, just as unrealistically good, but he was still there. Still there, with his fingers in Junmyeon’s hair. Junmyeon closed his eyes, trapping the blurriness inside. Baekhyun was completely silent but loud. In Junmyeon’s chest, Baekhyun was loud. So loud he couldn’t hear, feel, see, live anything else. Just Baekhyun and his magical fingers running through Junmyeon’s hair, gathering strands together, massaging his scalp in circular motions. Taming whatever sadness and sorrow was inside Junmyeon’s head and making them chirp in joy instead of barking at Junmyeon cruelly enough to startle him into tears.

 

He wanted to hug him. He wanted to encase himself right under his arm. Fit himself on his lap. Nudge his lips on the hollow between his collarbones. Rest his forehead against his neck and let Baekhyun’s fingers massage his head, his nape, his shoulders, turn him into goo under his touch, melt him until Junmyeon could reshape himself into something that would fit Baekhyun just, just right.

 

But he didn’t need that. He opened his eyes, blinked, immobile, and stared at the corners of Baekhyun’s mouth when he smiled down at his phone. He followed his thumb mole with his gaze as Baekhyun typed something with just one hand, the other momentarily idle in Junmyeon’s hair but still weaved there.

 

He didn’t need that. He already fit Baekhyun just right like this. He hadn’t felt himself fitting something like this before, not ever. Not his clothes, not his family, not his house, not his bed, not even the shoes he wore to work every day.

 

But Baekhyun. With Baekhyun, he fit.

 

Being with Baekhyun truly made everything better than it ever could be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

 

Junmyeon looked at Baekhyun, dragging his gaze away from a guy whose arms looked made to raise dumbbells. Baekhyun was already looking at him. His eyes looked like they were made for Junmyeon to stare into. With the satiny eyelids, the short lashes, and the pigmentation at the outer corners of his eyes, pulling the shape into droopiness.

 

He swallowed and looked away.

 

"You’re the one who suggested this," he reminded him, side eyeing him with judgement.

 

"I mean, I had at least one can of beer when I did that," Baekhyun mumbled, bumping his elbow into this. He always walked too close. 

 

"You don’t get drunk from one can of beer though," Junmyeon singsonged, looking around for Minseok and finding him near the treadmills. He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, looked at Baekhyun’s grimace. "Well, not exactly drunk at least."

 

His elbow voluntarily dug into his side this time and Junmyeon laughed, stepping away from him.

 

"Minseok’s over there," he said, nodding towards where Minseok was tweaking with the buttons on the treadmill a woman was jogging on.

 

"I really didn’t expect so many people to actually come to the gym," Baekhyun hummed with wonder in his voice, looking around.

 

Junmyeon threw a glance to his surroundings. It turned to a lingering stare whenever he saw muscles working. He didn’t know sweat could look so nice. He really hadn’t been here in too long. He had forgotten how frustrating this place full of healthy, nicely-bodied men could be. He didn’t look at Baekhyun. That was worse. Baekhyun with his tank top and his fluffy arms and his fluffy hair and his gym shorts.

 

"I didn’t know dumbbells could look so attractive," Baekhyun whispered when Junmyeon remained silent.

 

He didn’t look. He knew Baekhyun was talking about a woman. That wasn’t attractive to him, just pleasant to look at.

 

"I know right," he replied still, smiling when Minseok looked towards them.

 

He looked just in his element. He had taken a liking to exercising after his military service, surprisingly, and he hadn’t even looked hesitating when he had told Junmyeon that he wanted to get a license to work as a gym instructor.

 

"I can’t believe you managed to bring him here," was the first thing Minseok said to Baekhyun, although it was Junmyeon he was looking at with the judgement of more than a year of non-attendance to the gym. Though, Junmyeon had come here not long ago. He was just a little upset that Minseok didn’t count that very exhausting one time.

 

"I can’t believe _he_ managed to bring me here," Baekhyun retorted with a huff that made Minseok snort and Junmyeon widen his eyes at him.

 

"I came here because of you, you brat," he defended himself since, truthfully, just seeing everyone workout here made him want to cry. He would’ve avoided it if he could. But Baekhyun had looked so adorable, full of motivation as he announced last night that they should go to the gym together and get hot bodies. Junmyeon had thought Baekhyun was already hot enough like this but had still accepted.

 

"Alright, alright, kids," Minseok interjected with a laugh and at Baekhyun’s offended, exaggerated gasp, all three of them burst into laughter.

 

"He’s the kid here," Junmyeon huffed, deepening his voice and raising his eyebrows as he nodded at Baekhyun.

 

"I’m a nice kid at least. Aren’t I, hyung?" Baekhyun asked, getting all in his face, blinking too quickly. Junmyeon laughed and pushed him away. This silly face was truly more interesting to look at than sweaty muscles.

 

Perhaps _hyung_ in Baekhyun’s voice was also much nicer to hear than breathy groans.

 

"Well, why don’t you two just be nice kids and start stretching already?" Minseok called them back out to reality and Junmyeon felt himself withering inside. Minseok was a very nice instructor but also a very ambitious one. Too ambitious for Junmyeon’s old, tired body.

 

And maybe this was a really bad idea. Maybe Junmyeon really didn’t like working out and felt like dying with each minute he spent running, but at least, Baekhyun was there with him. With his breathy jokes, his complaints, and his dramatic groans that made it even harder to breathe for Junmyeon since laughing didn’t help the difficulty of the action.

 

Minseok laughed a lot too. Staring at them like a hawk and making sure they weren’t talking too much since that would truly only make it harder for them. Baekhyun still talked a lot whenever Minseok left them for a moment to check up on other people.

 

Baekhyun made working out less of a burden. Smoking had truly worsened his health and that was exactly what Baekhyun said too, but Junmyeon knew that wouldn’t make them drop their cigarettes yet. One day though. One day, Junmyeon would. He’d try. Baekhyun said they’d try together, to motivate each other.

 

There was a lot of people. Junmyeon’s gaze might linger around a few bodies a few times but he truly didn’t  like staring at other people as much as he liked staring at Baekhyun, even when he was sweaty and frowning and panting too loudly. Junmyeon was in no better state. It was worth it. Because Baekhyun leaned against him a lot to catch his breath, whining with that cute voice of his, stretching the word _hyung_ endlessly and stretching Junmyeon’s chest endlessly and looking better than anyone else when he used light dumbbells. His neckline was really nice. 

 

By the end of it, they were dead. They repeated it to each other at least five times as they walked back home together. They mumbled it to each other a few more times as they crashed in bed together. Junmyeon felt sore all over, hated Minseok just a little, but when Baekhyun suggested to massage each other, he thought it wasn’t that bad. 

 

Except, while he gave Baekhyun a massage that made him groan and moan enough for Junmyeon to almost choke, Baekhyun ended up just tickling him. His stomach was even more sore than it already had been. But it was worth it. Baekhyun patted his tummy and kept his hand there as he caught one of Junmyeon’s legs between his and fell asleep just like that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon didn’t hear Baekhyun scream through the walls anymore, he heard him sing instead.

 

Loudly, broken notes in the morning and joyful rhythms in the afternoon. At night, it was usually mellower, slower songs. Sadder. But Junmyeon knew Baekhyun got sad some days as soon as the night fell. He understood.

 

Sometimes, it wasn’t songs that he heard but laughter. From the shows Baekhyun was watching, from the effect these shows gave Baekhyun. Loud, free, pretty laughter. But what Junmyeon liked hearing the most through the wall was Baekhyun calling his name on days he was too lazy to get off his couch and ring Junmyeon’s bell instead.

 

But that didn’t happen a lot. Because most of their days ended together anyway. A lot of them didn’t end, they transitioned from yesterday to tomorrow together, barely touching, each curled up on their own side of the bed. They had sides now. They kept these spots both in Junmyeon’s bed and Baekhyun’s. It was nice. Junmyeon had a spot in his own bed now. 

 

Junmyeon didn’t feel so small anymore. Not so tiny and lost in a fixed place.

 

He felt wide. Ever expanding. Just like his feelings for Baekhyun.

 

Nothing really changed. Junmyeon didn’t think he changed, in his way of being, of feeling in general. He still felt lonely sometimes, but less than before. Not because falling in love had magically healed him. Because he had a friend now, because he had Baekhyun. Because he knew he could actually make a friend now if he wanted to. Because the whole issue at work had brought him closer to Minyoung, Saehee, and Jeha. Because he didn’t consider them as just colleagues anymore but perhaps something closer to friends. 

 

Because he had someone to come home to. And he had two homes now. Baekhyun’s and his own.

 

Junmyeon didn’t really change. In his way of treating Baekhyun. There was still a lot of silences between them, still heavy silences that they carried just fine together. Baekhyun was still sad sometimes. Junmyeon still never hugged him when he thought Baekhyun might need it. Instead he stayed beside him, telling him random things about his day, about things he had seen, about his childhood, about anything. Baekhyun listened well and made a conversation out of anything Junmyeon might say.

 

He wished. He still wished. For Baekhyun.

 

Some nights, he wished so much he didn’t even want to see Baekhyun. In case he might blurt it out. That he wished Baekhyun would even consider the possibility of feeling the same way as Junmyeon did.

 

But it was okay. Junmyeon didn’t mind. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t.

 

Because Junmyeon had always thought being loved would be the most delectable feeling ever. No. Loving was the most euphoric feeling he would ever experience.

 

He could love. In his tiny body, Junmyeon could grow something that made him fuzzy, bubbly, jittery. Merry. Something that was bigger than him, much bigger than him.

 

Something so ordinary, but that made him feel like the most special being in the universe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You must’ve practiced a lot to draw these," Baekhyun said, wonder stretching his voice and rendering his expression into a focused one.

 

His fingers were careful as he turned the pages of the sketchbook Junmyeon had crammed with drawings over the past years. He lingered on each cutesy character and chubby face for a moment, studying them all individually. He was almost done going through the whole thing, had spent so long just looking but he still wasn’t quickly skimming through the pages.

 

Junmyeon watched his fingers handle the pages with delicacy, his gaze jumping all over, and his lips remain mostly open, puckering to perfume his words with amazement from time to time. 

 

He hadn’t drawn anything in weeks and had decided to spend his Sunday afternoon drawing but Baekhyun had come over a while ago, while Junmyeon was in the midst of drawing this character from a drama they had watched together last night. He had seen the sketchbook opened and had immediately wondered what it was. Junmyeon really wasn’t used to telling people about that hobby of his but it had been easy to shrug and tell Baekhyun that it was his drawings, like it was no big deal. And it truly wasn’t but Baekhyun had been praising him nonstop for a while now and Junmyeon felt like he could explode into tiny, bright-colored confetti at any moment now.

 

It was also the fact that Baekhyun asked for an explanation to a few drawings instead of just looking at them. Junmyeon didn’t know that insignificant detail, talking about what he drew, would make him so happy.

 

"How did you start drawing?" Baekhyun asked a bit later, when he handed the sketchbook back to him.

 

He folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on them. He always did that when he felt hot, flopped around, on the couch, on the table, on the bed, on Junmyeon’s shoulder. They did that now. Resting on each other’s shoulder. Not for too long, just a few seconds. And it was mostly Baekhyun who did it, but on the few times Junmyeon felt brave enough to do it without fearing for his heart to explode, Baekhyun always reached to gently pat his cheek, sometimes with cheesy coos, sometimes in complete silence.

 

Junmyeon stood up to open a window. "I think it started in high school?" he asked more than stated, his memories a bit blurry. He didn’t really think about high school a lot. Not that it had been a bad time to him, it had just been a time like all the others.

 

"Don’t tell me you actually started drawing because you wanted to confess to your crush with a drawing or something like that," Baekhyun teased him, one hand swiping his hair up and freeing his damp forehead to breathe in the slight breeze sliding in from the window.

 

Junmyeon hummed a bit too longly as he sat back down on the couch. Baekhyun perked up from the other side of the table. 

 

"That actually happened?!" he questioned, voice rising higher as he grinned.

 

Junmyeon laughed, waving a hand in front of him. "Not exactly!" he rectified, watching Baekhyun shift his legs on the floor without raising his head from his forearms. "I was obsessed with drawing eyes in high school. It was all I’d draw and I guess after drawing it dozens of times in class, I started actually drawing them decently?" He laughed at the recollection of the dozens of wonky and weird eyes he had all over his notes.

 

"You drew in class?" Baekhyun gasped, more of a sign of amusement that surprise. "I thought you’d be the kind to be class president or something."

 

"That would’ve been too much work, honestly," Junmyeon scrunched his nose. "I just had good grades. Most of the time," he added as an afterthought, following a pause long enough for Baekhyun to chortle.

 

"I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. When I first met you I thought you had everything together and a perfect life just by looking at your face and clothes. But here we are," Baekhyun huffed, shaking his head as he gestured at the small pile of dirty socks gathered next to the television set.

 

It wasn’t _that_ dirty. It was much, much cleaner than the very first time few times Baekhyun had stepped into his apartment. It was cleaner because Baekhyun came here. Usually, he cleaned with Junmyeon and Junmyeon cleaned Baekhyun’s house with him. It was better this way. Much easier and much less exhausting.

 

"Anyway," Junmyeon ignored his small diss, tapping a hand on his thigh to dismiss that conversation. Baekhyun snorted. "There was this person that I really liked and who sat next to me in class." It was a boy. Junmyeon didn’t precise. It was just _that person_. "They always saw that I was drawing I guess and one day they asked me to draw a wolf for them."

 

"A wolf?" Baekhyun repeated, eyebrows raised. "You were sitting there, drawing eyes, but you got asked to draw a wolf? Isn’t that," he said, straightening to wave a hand around, "more complicated?" He flopped back down on his pillow of arms on the table.

 

"To me, it was much more complicated," Junmyeon hummed. He had been dumbfounded at the request back then. "But I liked that person. I wanted to look cool and impressive or something so I tried and," he sighed, "it was so bad. It didn’t even look like a wolf."

 

He expected Baekhyun to laugh. He laughed at his own words, it was a funny memory to him now, but Baekhyun only furrowed his eyebrows. He looked concerned. Cute.

 

"What did you do then?"

 

"I think they were a bit disappointed," Junmyeon snorted. It had been very awkward. He had kind of wanted to die right then and there. "But they remained polite. But I felt so bad. So I went back home after class and practiced until late."

 

"That does sound like something you’d do," Baekhyun smiled, unfolding one of his arms from under his chin and letting it fall somewhere under the table. Junmyeon felt himself falling along that hand at the peaceful smile on his face. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze blowing through the window.

 

Junmyeon bit his smile. He liked the fact that Baekhyun knew him enough to say that kind of thing now.

 

"I couldn’t draw it though. It looked bad. The next day I tried again. I failed. I tried again on the third day before deciding that I didn’t like this. I was only good at drawing eyes semi-realistically." He had moped over that reaction that whole night and the next. "So I tried drawing another way. Something a bit more similar to cartoons? With less details? And it kind of worked." He looked down and played with the corner of the sketchbook  resting on his lap. Baekhyun was really jittery but could sometimes stare when he paid attention. "So I tried perfecting it and it became a chibi. The style in the sketchbook . I can only draw this way. I gave that person a drawing of a wolf after more than a month and it was a little wonky, not perfect at all. But I still gave it to them."

 

He had been very proud of himself. And it had helped him find his style too, in a way. Even if he had to practice for months to get a satisfying result afterwards. Even if it took years for him to just be able to whip out a pen and draw whatever the hell he wanted without much struggle. It still wasn’t perfect, some of the chibis in the sketchbook were terrible. Baekhyun had still been impressed by them.

 

"I wonder how the wolf looked like," he mumbled and when Junmyeon looked up at him, he met his gaze. He looked a little sleepy. Heat made him sleepy. And cuddly, at night. He always slept too close to Junmyeon. It drove him crazy. Both because of the unbearable body heat on summer nights and because he was Baekhyun.

 

Junmyeon looked back down at his sketchbook and opened it. He leaned forward to grab his pencil and started drawing. He heard Baekhyun knock his knee against the table and then curse. He glanced at him to mock him and started drawing after seeing the funny grimace on his face. Baekhyun didn’t look away even once as Junmyeon raked his brain for the memory of that drawing from years ago.

 

He didn’t really look at Baekhyun at all but he could feel his gaze. He liked the feeling of it. It made him a little nervous. 

 

The lines weren’t wonky but he lingered a little on the ears, wondering if he had made one of them flop like a puppy or if he had kept a mild semblance of realism. In a few minutes, he was done though, and even if it wasn’t entirely accurate to what he had drawn for his crush years ago, it was still a wolf and he showed it to Baekhyun with a proud grin.

 

Baekhyun perked up again and leaned closer over the table to take a better look, mouth stretching into another one of those airy, adorable, and impressed sounds. 

 

"That’s the drawing you gave to that person?" he asked, glancing at Junmyeon and then studying the cute, playful-looking wolf again. 

 

"Something similar to this, yeah," Junmyeon said, putting the sketchbook  back down on his lap again and smiling down at it. He hadn’t drawn an animal in so long. He should do it more often.

 

"That must be nice," Baekhyun mumbled, voice dampened a little bit but still carrying its signature perkiness. He didn’t look sleepy anymore as his fingers reached for Junmyeon’s lighter on the table and his own pack of cigarettes. "Receiving a drawing from someone who likes you."

 

His fingers pulled a stick out of the pack and he lit it up. Junmyeon watched him take the first drag and then extend his pack to him. He refused the offer with a smile and tapped the pen to the corner of his sketchbook instead.

 

He didn’t really look sad. Envious, perhaps. Nostalgic, a little bit. Picturesque.

 

"Should I draw you?" Junmyeon asked, so suddenly even his own voice trembled in surprise. 

 

Baekhyun looked at him for a surprised, silent moment, before his features melted into a summery smile.

 

"Sure!" he heartily agreed and Junmyeon’s endearment sang through his laughter before he turned the page and stared at the hollow of a blank, new one.

 

He glanced at Baekhyun, at the page, at a blinking Baekhyun, at the page, and then started drawing. 

 

It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he wanted to draw. It was even easier to figure out the features he wanted to enhance while drawing Baekhyun. He drew Baekhyun with the flower pose that fit him so much. He gathered his sharp cupid’s bow into a  single high point and traced two slightly curvy lines looking at opposite directions for his mouth. He smiled as he dotted the mole on the left corner. Smiled as he drew the droopiness of his eyes, making them as tender at possible. Smiled as he drew Baekhyun in shorts and tank tops. Smiled at his representation of Baekhyun.

 

"Why are you smiling?" Baekhyun suddenly asked and when Junmyeon looked up he was already done with his cigarette, perhaps had been done for a while now. His eyes were narrowed but his smile was jumpy on the corners of his mouth. Junmyeon had made his cheeks plump, the way they were now. "Are you drawing something weird?" he drawled out suspiciously.

 

Junmyeon snorted before that rush of air turned into laughter that left him breathless even if it lasted for barely a few seconds.

 

"I think this is the cutest thing I’ve ever drawn actually," Junmyeon muttered as he thickened a few strands of hair.

 

"Isn’t that because I’m the cutest model ever?" Baekhyun asked with the flattest voice possible and Junmyeon screeched when it made him laugh so suddenly his pencil almost ruined the satisfying leaf of the bean sprout he had put on top of Baekhyun’s head.

 

He threatened Baekhyun into quietness after that and it only took him a short moment to complete the rest of the quick drawing. He ripped the page very carefully and handed it to Baekhyun.

 

"Gift," he simply said, feeling his cheeks gathering close to his eyes as he couldn’t help but grin.

 

He kind of wanted to keep the drawing. But he also kind of wanted to draw a hundred more. Of Baekhyun in different places and situation, with his plump cheeks and his homely eyes. 

 

And the smile Baekhyun instantly burst into was worth parting way with his first drawing of him. Perhaps worth drawing a hundred more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon didn’t like sleeping with clothes on during summer.

 

It felt too constricting, too hot, too unbearable even with the fan on. He preferred sleeping in boxer briefs, leaving his upper body bare to keep the core of his body from melting and burning all at the same time. 

 

As he laid there, blanket safely tucked up to his chest, the cold fabric he hadn’t touched all day refreshing him, he wondered why he didn’t just sleep entirely naked. It would be nice to sleep naked. Maybe it would take away the last bit of crushing warmth in his room. But it felt pointless.

 

He didn’t want to sleep naked. It felt meaningless if he was alone in bed. It should only happen if there was someone in bed with him, someone to look at his skin, someone to enjoy the bareness of his being, someone to wander hands over him and plant heat wherever they grazed. Someone.

 

Baekhyun.

 

He wondered how Baekhyun slept when he wasn’t there. Did he still sleep with his tank top and shorts? Did he sleep shirtless? Or naked like Junmyeon? Or more naked than Junmyeon?

 

He wondered how it would feel to sleep with Baekhyun, just sleep, with nothing but their skin and their dreams bordering them from each other.

 

He wondered if Baekhyun’s hands would be just as jittery in bed. If he’d touch everywhere, unable to keep still in one spot only. He wondered if his hands would be warm,  if they’d be damp from nervousness. He wondered if Baekhyun was the kind to laugh even while having sex or if he’d just never open his mouth at all unless it was to kiss and moan.

 

He wondered if Baekhyun jerked off in the bed he slept in with Junmyeon. If Junmyeon had ever interrupted him. If he had ever jerked off after Junmyeon had left the house, stomach full of food, beer, and giddiness.

 

Junmyeon wondered. Before he realized it, his hand had wandered, had fallen down, had grasped. Junmyeon wished. He wished so much. He wished so hard. He wished Baekhyun.

 

Junmyeon wished as he came, that night. He wished as he caught his breath and stared up at the smile that flashed on his ceiling each time he blinked. He wished as he scrubbed off the dirt and the shame of masturbating to images and memories of an oblivious Baekhyun. He wished as he crashed back down in bed and his pillow cut his breath off momentarily. Or maybe it wasn’t the pillow.

 

Junmyeon wished Baekhyun so ardently his pillow was wet, his eyes were dry, and his head was in flames by the time he had cried himself to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon was rarely nervous in his life. There was hardly anything to be nervous about when each day was a repeat of the previous one.

 

But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, he’d be reporting his boss. Tomorrow was a day he’d been waiting for weeks, too many weeks. It had taken time to gather evidence, a few handwritten testimonies, and the courage to call and ask for a meeting with someone from headquarters. Junmyeon hadn’t been this nervous since his university entrance exams.

 

He would’ve been even more nervous had Minyoung not wanted to be there with him. She wasn’t supposed to, she had said she wouldn’t take part in this matter at all when Junmyeon had first proposed it that night, in front of the noraebang. He hadn’t liked it though, and perhaps she hadn’t either. She had messaged him a while ago to ask him if it would be okay for her to come along with him. Junmyeon had readily agreed. Her presence was important, both for credibility and for personal matters - especially hers.

 

"You’re really so good at this," Baekhyun hummed, words tainted with smoke and wonder as his thumb brushed over the screen of Junmyeon’s phone over and over again to skim through the pictures in his camera roll.

 

He leaned forward to tap the ash off his cigarette and Junmyeon felt a little bit of his nervousness crumbling down along with it. He was nervous, but just being here, on Baekhyun’s couch, their bare thighs touching, was enough to keep him in place. 

 

"It’s just pictures," Junmyeon chuckled as his hand reached for a loose thread on the hem of Baekhyun’s shorts. His fingers brushed bare skin but neither of them cared. Or at least, Baekhyun didn’t care, Junmyeon felt tingles sizzling in his whole hand. "Good pictures."

 

"No!" Baekhyun nudged him with his elbow and then let out a breathy _woah_ at a picture of raindrops looking as heavy as bullets as they crashed into a puddle. "They’re really pretty pictures. I didn’t know you could take this kind of pictures. You never brag about yourself, hyung."

 

The glance Baekhyun gave him was chiding but Junmyeon shrugged and tried keeping his face from permanently moulding into a smile.

 

"I mean," he shrugged again, this time bumping his shoulder against Baekhyun’s. "I do think I’m a quite nice photographer."

 

Baekhyun laughed. "See, you only praise yourself when someone starts doing it first."

 

"I’m only agreeing with the truth!" Junmyeon huffed, taking the last drag of his cigarette before crushing the butt into the ashtray.

 

Baekhyun looked at a few more pictures, asked for context the same way he had when going through Junmyeon’s drawings, and finished his cigarette a bit later.

 

"You have no pictures of yourself at all though," he noted as he grabbed the ashtray on his lap and put it on the coffee table. "Or of people in general," he said, looking back at Junmyeon.

 

His hair had grown, it was even fluffier than usual. Junmyeon could probably tuck a few strands behind his ear. And then trail his fingertips down the length of his neck. Baekhyun would laugh. He was ticklish.

 

"I just never have the occasion to take pictures of Minseok or myself," he said, humming a little. Both Minseok and he preferred taking pictures rather than having their pictures taken. Though, Minseok liked taking pictures of him too, Junmyeon just never found it necessary to ask him to send them to him.

 

"Your phone must be sad," Baekhyun mumbled, scrunching his features into mock sadness as he looked down at the device still in hand. Then, he grinned, features lighting up brighter than the screen. "I’ll make it happy for you."

 

And he did. Junmyeon laughed for a good amount of time, was shaken by happiness for a good moment as he watched Baekhyun take dozens of pictures of himself with his phone. Some of them were proper, with smiles and winks and peace signs, but after a while, a lot of them became funny with grimaces, blurriness, and laughter bursting into the silent snap of the camera. But all of them were pretty. Incredibly pretty.

 

The prettiest were the ones Baekhyun took after throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him closer into the pictures. Smiley faces, laughing mouths, fingers digging into cheeks, Baekhyun’s hand ruffling his hair, Junmyeon’s pulling his eyelids up into a grimace, cheeks mushed together, and teeth bared. A bouncy smile that made Junmyeon’s heart bounce with exhilaration in his chest. Pretty. Junmyeon thought that Baekhyun and he looked pretty together.

 

"Oh, you should give me your number," Baekhyun said once they were done taking pictures and calm enough to breathe without their stomachs hurting from laughter. 

 

"We don’t have each other’s numbers?" was Junmyeon’s first response, eyebrows raised as he looked down at his phone like it had betrayed him.

 

"We don’t," Baekhyun chuckled, turning the sound into a groan afterwards when he stretched his arms over his head. 

 

"Right," Junmyeon said, thumb rubbing his screen. "We don’t really need to use the phone. We’re three steps away from each other."

 

That made him happy, for some reason. He was so close to Baekhyun. Always.

 

"Yep!" Baekhyun popped with his mouth, his hand falling on Junmyeon’s shoulder once he was done stretching. His finger dug into Junmyeon’s neck. "But this weekend we won’t be. That’s why we should exchange our numbers."

 

"Why? Where are you going?" Junmyeon questioned, unable to keep his features relaxed.

 

This was foreign. 

 

"I’ll be spending the weekend at my friend’s house," Baekhyun smiled as his nail grazed Junmyeon’s neck up and down once before he pulled his hand away. Junmyeon shuddered. "His wife is going to her parents’ for something so he’ll be alone with their son. So he’s having me and another friend over so we can spend some time together and babysit at the same time."

 

This was really foreign. Baekhyun not being in this house. Baekhyun not being in Junmyeon’s house the whole weekend. Not being three steps, two doors away.

 

A weekend without Baekhyun would be weird.

 

But Junmyeon still smiled as Baekhyun spelled his number to him out loud and started over a few times after switching up a few numbers. Baekhyun wanted to be able to contact him even if all they’d spend away from each other was two days.

 

Perhaps these two days seemed as huge to him as they did to Junmyeon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The room was full with the sound of clinking glasses and cacophonous conversation. And discomfort. 

 

Discomfort dug into Junmyeon stomach as he watched the screen. He glanced at the man’s reaction to a hand constantly wandering closer to bare thighs that constantly tried pulling away. His grave expression didn’t quiver even once as he watched the video, his frown bushy, his hand pressed against his chin to support it, and his forehead wrinkled.

 

The video cut off before Minyoung’s face could be seen and Junmyeon reached towards the table to pull the lid of his laptop down in entire silence. It weighed over the room for a short moment during which he brought his hands together in his lap. His fingers felt cold and damp. His voice was steady as he spoke.

 

"This is a problem that has been going on for years," he said, keeping his stature firm but not aggressive. This was important. "We’ve only recently started collecting evidence because our female employees were starting to fear for their safety."

 

That wasn’t a lie. This had started because Junmyeon feared for their safety but in a lot of the testimonies he had read, this came back. Fear of how far the Branch Manager could go. Fear of the consequences if they were to fight him back.

 

The man remained silent, gaze resting on top of Junmyeon’s closed laptop. Junmyeon glanced at Minyoung, meeting her gaze and staying there. She didn’t look as nervous as he thought he felt. Her ponytail was sleek, not a single strand out of place. Her gaze was unwavering when it left Junmyeon’s and studied the Board Director.

 

"No doubt, we have enough evidence to prove our accusations as you’ve just witnessed," she said, prompting the man into clearing his throat with a rattly sound and looking at her.

 

"You did do a good work with gathering evidence," he mumbled, although it barely even sounded like a compliment. Minyoung still smiled and nodded her head in thanks. Junmyeon pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing nervously. "Isn’t there any other way to settle this?" he asked then, pulling his hand down and drumming on the arm rest of his seat.

 

Junmyeon categorically shook his head. "I don’t think the bank is a safe environment right now. I don’t think it will be one as long as the Branch Manager’s presence and authority remains there."

 

His fingers dug into each other as the man locked his gaze into his. This was perhaps going too far. Basically asking them to take Mr. Yoo away from his position, from the bank. Fire him. That was what Junmyeon wanted. That was what the man deserved for everything he did to the employees on a daily basis. And this was maybe too much but it was the right thing to ask for.

 

The man remained silent, analyzing Junmyeon with his eyes. He felt uncomfortable. But he didn’t look away, didn’t loosen his tie despite it strangling him, didn’t pay attention to the sweat he could feel dripping down his back.

 

He only looked away when Minyoung shifted to gather the files they had brought. Screenshots of text conversations, testimonies, printed pictures, and a CD with a copy of the video they had just watched. She gathered them all in the file spotlessly and smiled as she slid it towards the man.

 

"We’d like you to make the correct and fitting procedures," she said, straightening her back again, smile polite and bleeding into her voice. "And if you don’t, we believe it is our clients’ right to know what kind of establishment they’re trusting their money with."

 

Junmyeon’s eyes widened as they snapped from Minyoung to the Board Director. His face was a stoney surface and the only crack were the lines on his skin, but his gaze was honed as he stared at Minyoung who didn’t lose her smile, nor the match.

 

"Thank you," the man said, voice a stone shattering glassy silence. He stood up and they both followed, gathering their files and laptop. "We’ll start the right procedures as soon as possible."

 

He dismissed them with a nod and a gesture towards the door. They both bowed and calmly headed out of the room. 

 

As soon as the door was closed behind them and they were secured inside the elevator, Junmyeon slumped against the wall and Minyoung sighed out, loud and long.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing not to press his laptop too hard against his chest.

 

"I can’t believe you threatened them," he huffed, before the sound broke into laughter marked by disbelief.

 

"If we’re doing this, we might as well do it right and make sure they’ll do something," Minyoung said firmly before grimacing and bumping her shoulder against his. "Though, I thought I was going to die right after saying that."

 

Junmyeon laughed, shaking his head and holding onto the button of his blazer. They looked at each other and smiled, not too big but not too small either.

 

"I’m really glad we did this," Junmyeon said, voice mollified by how fast relief rushed into him now that they were done with their part of things. And it was done right. He was sure of it.

 

"I’m proud of us," Minyoung replied, her ponytail happily swaying to the side.

 

Junmyeon shook his head. "I’m proud of _you,_ " he rectified, earning a little bit of a wobbly but broad smile.

 

When they got out of the elevator, Junmyeon was just a tad proud of himself too. Just a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

To celebrate the victory, as Baekhyun called it, they decided to go the amusement park that same night.

 

Or rather, Baekhyun decided to go to the amusement park. Junmyeon truly sucked at making plans and taking decisions that involved getting out of his house but Baekhyun had said that they never did anything outside of their apartments. He didn’t mind, he had added, he loved just staying home with Junmyeon and doing nothing but once in a blue moon, it would be nice of them to go out together as well.

 

Junmyeon didn’t refute him. Both because he was kind of right and because it would be their last day together before Baekhyun left for the weekend. He’d leave Friday night, and he would only go as far as twenty minutes away, not even out of the city, but it was still a place away from Junmyeon. 

 

 It was already night when they arrived after eating and resting only little after work and the amusement park was crowded. The first thing they did was just take a tour and see every ride available to them. It was a big place, there was a lot of walking to do but Junmyeon got them cotton candy that they shared as they walked. Their finger were sticky from plucking big lumps of cloudy pink from the stick but it was worth it, the sugar melted perfectly in his mouth and Baekhyun’s sticky fingers kept sticking to his arm for the laughs but he stopped as soon as Junmyeon threatened to eat the rest of the candy on his own. In the end, he ended up letting Baekhyun eat the rest of it by himself.

 

The lights were a really pretty sight, reflecting in Baekhyun’s eyes and making them shiner and brighter than they usually were. Junmyeon looked into his eyes a lot. Lost himself in that place full of sparkles a lot. All the voices around them were loud, conversations, children’s laughter, the music coming from each ride, and the loud promotions made through microphones. Junmyeon still heard every peak of Baekhyun’s laughter distinctly.

 

They stood in front of the first ride they would take, waiting for the round to come to an end to buy their tickets. It was a simple spin forward, and then backwards in booths of two. Loud music and smoke, bright lights, and a curtain that would fold over their booth for a short moment at one point in the ride, probably to leave them in the dark and unaware of the speed at which they would be spinning. Junmyeon could still hear the laughter and screams under the curtains. He wondered how dark it was inside. He wondered how it would feel to kiss Baekhyun there, amidst the laughter and the excitement.

 

They got in the ride and screamed a lot. Laughed a lot. Junmyeon kept sliding towards Baekhyun as they spun, his body crushing his, but neither of them minded. He kept trying to slide up to avoid crushing him but after a while, Baekhyun just wrapped his arms around his waist to keep him there and let him enjoy the ride without trying to slide away. Junmyeon laughed a lot, closed his eyes. He fit perfectly. Baekhyun’s arms were long and wrapped perfectly around him. They didn’t kiss in the darkness but Baekhyun held his hand for a short moment and laughed harder than ever as Junmyeon screamed that they were going to die.

 

He felt like he was going to die. From happiness. From how pretty Baekhyun was. From how fast he made Junmyeon’s heart beat. He felt so alive, he thought he could die right then and there.

 

In the Haunted House, Baekhyun clung to his arm the whole time as they walked. Junmyeon could barely even pay attention to the costumes and decor trying to scare them from how funny Baekhyun sounded as he cursed, his dialect slipping in from time to time, his jumps of fear more like vibrations than anything else. At one point, he screamed when someone jumped in front of them and then hit Junmyeon’s arm when he laughed so hard he had to bend down because his stomach hurt.

 

He paid for the next ride to make up for it. Baekhyun paid for the next. They took a few more rides, avoiding the ones that involved water and prioritizing the ones that made their heads spin. They took breaks in-between, simply walking together. They took a lot of pictures. Junmyeon snapped more pictures of Baekhyun alone than the magical lights around them. Baekhyun took a lot of pictures of them together and then sent them to him. They sat down and ate churros once they were too tired to ride anything else. They bought a lot and took the leftovers home, to Baekhyun’s apartment.

 

Neither of them said anything, neither asked about staying over. It just happened. Baekhyun let Junmyeon take a shower first. He could go to his apartment to do it but he accepted. He could go to his apartment to get a change of clothes, but he borrowed from Baekhyun instead. His shirts were as baggy on Junmyeon as they were on him. It felt just right. Loose fabric, shorts that were a bit too big on him, and the scent of Baekhyun’s shampoo on himself, and then on Baekhyun when he finished showering and crashed on the bed, his arm crushing Junmyeon’s chest.

 

He complained exaggeratedly and Baekhyun, instead of answering or pulling his arm away, just started faking snores. He only opened his eyes when Junmyeon reached to pull at the hair on his shins. They laughed. They always laughed. Looked at the pictures they had taken at the park, and then got under the blanket to sleep.

 

Junmyeon couldn’t really sleep. Because he was too happy. Because he was so close to Baekhyun. Because he wouldn’t see Baekhyun for three days, until next Monday, and he wanted to stare at him instead of sleeping. But he didn’t. He stared at the ceiling instead and listened to every shift of Baekhyun’s, next to him.

 

Time passed. Junmyeon was still just as happy.

 

"Do you hate cuddling, hyung?" Baekhyun asked after a while, startling Junmyeon with his question more than his sudden voice.

 

He turned to lay on his side to look at him. He could see him in the dark of the room, his features, not his expression.

 

"No, I don’t," Junmyeon laughed, incredulous. "Why?"

 

"Just asking," Baekhyun said, a yawn broadening his words before he rubbed his cheek against the pillow.

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together, stared at Baekhyun’s closed eyelids. Stared when they opened to look into his eyes. Wished.

 

"Do you hate cuddling?" he asked then, voice muffled under the blanket he pulled up to his nose despite the heat. The fan was blowing over him, blowing over Baekhyun when its head turned. 

 

He had never thought about it. Cuddling Baekhyun. They never really did that, never really touched each other for longer than necessary. Sometimes Baekhyun touched his neck, his shoulder. Sometimes, Junmyeon touched his cheek, ruffled his hair. Their legs usually brushed and tangled together when they slept but their arms always remained away from each other. He had never really thought about cuddling Baekhyun. Doing other things with Baekhyun, yes. But not cuddling.

 

It kind of made him want to cry now.

 

"No, I don’t either," Baekhyun answered after a silence, voice sounding drowsy, smiley. Baekhyun’s voice sounded happy even when his face wasn’t smiling. Sometimes, it was forced. Junmyeon knew. But right now, it wasn’t. It was just Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun who had asked him if he hated cuddling and then told him he didn’t hate cuddling either. Junmyeon stared and stared and gripped the blanket and listened to his heart suddenly trying to bump him into Baekhyun and wished and then moved. Just a little. Just slowly. Getting closer, stopping, staring, being stared at. Baekhyun raised and arm off the bed in silence and Junmyeon traveled the last few centimeters between them. 

 

Baekhyun’s arm landed across his shoulder and the tip of Junmyeon’s nose fit perfectly on the patch of skin between his collarbones.

 

Their legs tangled, Junmyeon shivered at the bare skin and the tickles of fine hair. One of his arm was folded between them and the other held onto Baekhyun’s waist. He felt at peace. Baekhyun’s hand rested on the back of his head. Even with his heart bouncing around, the beat of it echoing even in the back of his knees, he felt at rest. In Baekhyun’s arms. With the long, little _yay_ that Baekhyun muttered against his forehead.

 

Junmyeon felt cajoled. In his place.

 

He only felt like dying when Baekhyun complained about the heat and took his shirt off before hugging Junmyeon again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A weekend without Baekhyun was a weird weekend. 

 

He felt alone. On Saturday, he did his laundry. It was usually for Sundays but this was a dire situation and Junmyeon didn’t really care anymore. He just wanted to occupy himself. 

 

So he did his laundry. Watched a show on his laptop. Smoked a lot. Told himself not to call Baekhyun because he was probably having fun with his friends and he didn’t want to seem clingy. Even if now, he wished he had clung to Baekhyun and begged him not to leave. Or something like that. But he hadn’t. 

 

He spent the rest of his day sleeping, drinking green tea, and taking a bath. He slept a little more in the bath and woke up because the water was getting too cold. He got out and went to the living room with just his underwear on. He didn’t do that much anymore, because he never knew when Baekhyun would come over. He turned the radio on and gave his phone a surprised look when it wasn’t Baekhyun’s voice talking as soon as the music was over. He never listened to the radio unless it was Baekhyun’s time slot.

 

He drew. Without even having to stop and think about it, he drew Baekhyun. Holding a stick of cotton candy bigger than his head, a little bit of pink around his mouth and on his sticky fingers. Plump cheeks and droopy eyes that glittered with the lights of the amusement park. He missed Baekhyun. But he didn’t let himself get saddened by it. 

 

He got dressed and went grocery shopping, stocking on instant ramyeon and Baekhyun’s favorite snacks. When he came back, he called Minseok to catch up a little. They stayed on the phone for close to two hours and Junmyeon was happy by the end of it. Listening to Minseok’s sometimes ridiculous sexual escapades while drawing a little more might be a bad decision since he always made Junmyeon laugh unexpectedly and rendered his lines less accurate but he liked it nonetheless. It was also a relief to be able to complain about the amount of frustration his feelings for Baekhyun locked him in, especially at night. That made Minseok laugh back. It was pleasant.

 

When he hung up, he noticed that he had gotten a message. From Baekhyun. It was a picture of him kneeled on the floor along with two men he didn’t know and a little boy standing between them. They were all grimacing with their teeth bared. Junmyeon stared at one of them more, until he recognized him as the man he had once seen in front of Baekhyun’s door, during the time Baekhyun had disappeared after announcing his divorce to him.

 

The message that came with the picture said _With little Daeulie and the two idiots, Jongdae and Chanyeol._ Junmyeon’s cheeks bundled up into his eyes as he stared at the picture, while walking to the bedroom and then laying on his bed. It was late already. Maybe Baekhyun had messaged him now because the kid was asleep. He looked great. He looked happy. Like himself. He was a bit far but he was still Baekhyun. He still made Junmyeon want to curl up into himself and squeal like an idiot.

 

He spied a line of blue on Baekhyun’s neck and when he saw green on the child’s fingers and orange on the cheek of the man standing in the middle, with his eyebrows slanted into a comical worried expression, Junmyeon figured that they’d been drawing. He wondered if Baekhyun had made collages with them. It would be cute. His fingers as sticky as Daeul’s would probably be.

 

Junmyeon curled into himself to stifle his grin and stared more at the picture. He zoomed in on Baekhyun’s face. Mussed hair, glowing nose and a sheen on his cheeks. The corners of his eyes were crinkled, on the skin riding up to his nose. Lovely. So lovely.

 

He typed a quick reply, something about Baekhyun letting his inner child out, a teasing warning about not fighting with the kid after getting too competitive. The reply didn’t come but Junmyeon soon fell asleep while staring at Baekhyun’s appeasing features.

 

The next day was similar to the last.

 

He woke up, skipped breakfast, watched a show and then a drama. He took a small nap, ate lunch towards the middle of the afternoon and then cleaned around a bit. He tried cleaning the dust off his television set, off his windows, off his shelves. He didn’t clean the dust on the windowsill of the bedroom. Baekhyun had traced over the very faint shape of the flower again a few days ago, to keep it from disappearing. 

 

He didn’t jerk off. Didn’t watch porn. Didn’t watch ASMR. He didn’t because he always couldn’t keep himself from picturing Baekhyun as he pleasured himself and while the euphoria was more fulfilling than ever, the aftermath was terrible. He felt terrible, always. Like he was betraying Baekhyun.

 

He messaged Jaehwan and got a bunch of sulky stickers, finding out that he had heard about what Minyoung and he had done and was a little upset because Junmyeon hadn’t trusted him with the information. After confirming with Minyoung that she was the one to tell him, he apologized to Jaehwan and promised to make it up to him with a nice lunch on Monday.

 

The only difference was that while Junmyeon was lounging on his couch in the evening, smoking and eating chips and drinking beer and watching a detective drama that actually managed to keep his attention, his phone rang. It wasn’t Minseok. He sat up when he saw Baekhyun’s name on his screen and choked on the smoke he hadn’t blown out yet. He stared. Junmyeon made at least a dozen phone calls every day at work but he stared at the phone call he hadn’t expected. Perhaps he had wished for it, but he hadn’t expected it.

 

He put his cigarette down on the ashtray and wiped his greasy fingers on the his shorts before pausing his episode and picking up the phone.

 

"Hyung!" Baekhyun greeted him with before he could even show sign that he was on the other end of the line.

 

He had missed this. This voice. Baekhyun. That was the first thing he thought as soon as he heard that cheery tone wrapped into that word.

 

"Baekhyun-ah," Junmyeon breathed. Truly breathed. It felt like his first pure breath in three days, since Friday morning. "How have you been?"

 

"Tired," Baekhyun whined, voice softened by the barrier of the phone. Junmyeon laughed and slumped into the backrest of the couch, closing his eyes. He listened. "I didn’t know children could be so energetic. I mean, I knew but I didn’t think it would be to that extent."

 

Junmyeon smiled at the image of Baekhyun running after a kid all day long. Cute.

 

"I can’t believe you finally found someone who has more energy than you," he teased the other, the corners of his lips quivering when Baekhyun laughed.

 

"And of course, it’s Jongdae’s son," Baekhyun huffed.

 

Junmyeon often heard about Jongdae and Chanyeol. Baekhyun’s two friends from high school. Jongdae had gotten married four years ago and Chanyeol only a few months ago, he had been engaged when Junmyeon had first met Baekhyun. Just like Junmyeon and Minseok, Baekhyun didn’t see his friends that often. Everyone was busy with work and family. Although, Minseok was busier with blowjobs and shady clubs. He still had the impression that he saw Minseok more than Baekhyun saw his own friends though so he was glad Baekhyun could spend time with them like this.

 

"You should go to sleep," Junmyeon suggested, a little concerned. "It’s late enough to sleep now, it’s past 10pm."

 

"I’m going to sleep. I wanted to sleep now that everyone else was asleep but something was bothering me actually," Baekhyun said, voice gradually lowering in volume towards the end of his sentence.

 

He sounded like he was rubbing his face, maybe an eye. He sounded sleepy. It made Junmyeon sleepy. The rush of relief and homeliness that just hearing Baekhyun speak gave him. He moved to lay down on the couch properly.

 

"What’s bothering you? Did something happen?" he questioned, opening his eyes and frowning at nothing. Baekhyun didn’t sound particularly upset, just tired, like he always was at the end of his days.

 

"Something _didn’t_ happen," Baekhyun rectified with a huff. His voice sounded pouty. Junmyeon could picture it. The upset dots on his chin, the pucker of his lips, the puffiness of his cheeks, and the slightly offended gaze. He wished he could picture it. Snap it into his camera roll. Draw it. "You didn’t call me."

 

Junmyeon extended a hand to touch the table. He said nothing for a moment.

 

"You waited for me to call you?" he asked, maybe a bit too low, a bit too slurred by surprise.

 

"Of course I did, hyung," Baekhyun groaned, a chiding unconcealed in the way he insisted on the pronunciation of his last word, voice deepening on it. "I even messaged you first. But no. You forgot about me and drank all your beer alone, didn’t you?"

 

Junmyeon bit his lip. Hard. His grin still flowered despite the harsh treatment given to it. His heart. His heart elevated and crashed down again and again in excitement. At Baekhyun’s voice. His words.

 

"Actually I’ve only drank one can without you," he eventually mumbled, voice a bit breathy, a bit rattly. He cleared his throat when Baekhyun snorted. "But I haven’t finished it yet! I didn’t forget you either."

 

"You better not," Baekhyun mumbled, maybe through playfully greeted teeth, or narrowed eyes. Junmyeon liked this. Trying to imagine what Baekhyun looked like as he talked to him. "How was your day?"

 

"It was great," Junmyeon sighed, not heavy but content. He hadn’t heard that question in so long. Since the last time Baekhyun had asked him. Three days ago. That was too long. "I cleaned around a little. Choked on dust a little." Baekhyun chortled at that. "I even found a book I’d been looking for. It was under my bed."

 

"I’m sure you found dirty underwear and socks along with it," Baekhyun teased him, with that mockingly nagging tone of his.

 

"Actually yes," Junmyeon admitted with no shame. "I found a few missing socks."

 

"Hyung," Baekhyun groaned, his vowel stretched and chopped into laughter.

 

Junmyeon laughed along and then rubbed at an eyebrow. He was getting sleepy.

 

"What about you? How was your day?" he asked back, silencing a yawn behind his hand and failing. He closed his eyes. Baekhyun’s voice was as deep through a call as it was through the radio broadcast.

 

"It was nice. We ran around a lot. We went to the park and Chanyeol scratched his knee while trying to play with Daeul. He didn’t fall even once but Chanyeol did. He’s the curly-haired guy on the photo I sent you." Junmyeon laughed at the judgment in his voice. It made his chest feel fuller. "We also baked. I had them make cute shapes with cookie dough. It was kind of a failure. Especially for Daeul. I felt really talented with my stars and cats."

 

"You’re very talented indeed," Junmyeon hummed, the smile stretched on his lips agreeable. He liked the feeling of smiles on his face. He liked it even more when it was thanks to Baekhyun.

 

He heard a sigh then. "I’m a little sad though."

 

"Why?" Junmyeon wondered, like he always did whenever Baekhyun pronounced those words. With the same pained tone he always had. Baekhyun’s sadness enhanced his, always. Just like his presence cured Junmyeon’s weaker presence inside his home. 

 

He heard him sigh again. He wondered if it wasn’t sighs but just Baekhyun smoking. Though, smoking was kind of like sighing for them.

 

"It’s just."  A pause. A sigh. The rustle of clothes and the whoosh of a car. Maybe he was outside. "Everything is perfect. For them. I know it’s probably not, but to me it feels like that." Junmyeon knew. Junmyeon understood, so much he felt a pinch in his stomach. "I can see that they’re trying not to mention family in front of me. I can see that Chanyeol’s avoiding the question when Daeul’s asking him about Jihyun, his wife. I can see that Jongdae gets a little nervous when Daeul tells me and Chanyeol about what they did with his mom last week, or whenever."

 

"I’m sure they just don’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad about yourself," Junmyeon said, chewing on his lower lip. He didn’t like Baekhyun being sad. He didn’t know how to stop it. Junmyeon could offer a solution to everything but Baekhyun’s sadness. And his own.

 

"I know," Baekhyun mumbled, barely above a whisper. "It’s just that it bothers me. It’s been more than three months since the divorce. It still hurts but I won’t cry at the mention of it anymore, not in public at least. Not even in front of them." Sometimes he did cry. When he was too drunk. Or too tired. When they were in bed and his back was facing Junmyeon. It hadn’t happened in almost a month but Junmyeon wouldn’t delude himself into thinking Baekhyun was over it. "I just wish they’d treat me normally."

 

"I think you should talk to them about it," Junmyeon suggested. That was the only solution. If Baekhyun didn’t tell them that it bothered him, then they would have no way of knowing. "Tomorrow before leaving maybe?"

 

"Yeah," Baekhyun sighed. He took a pause, blew out again. "I’ll talk about it to them before leaving. Thanks."

 

"It’s alright," Junmyeon smiled, hoping that they’d be understanding of Baekhyun. He stayed silent then, and Baekhyun did too. They could share pleasant silences even on the phone. But the question that had been roaming in Junmyeon’s head for months broke it. "Why don’t you want kids though, Baekhyun?"

 

He had been wondering since Baekhyun had said that decision of his had been the downfall of his marriage. Silence. Junmyeon could almost imagine Baekhyun closing his eyes as he blew smoke out. He would’ve craved a cigarette did he not feel so sleepy already.

 

"There’s no particular reason," Baekhyun said after a moment, not shaken or upset by the question. Junmyeon hadn’t really expected him to be but it was still nice to know they could talk about this. They usually didn’t. "I just don’t want to. It’s not a thought, a possibility that makes me happy and excited. I don’t feel like it’s fit for me. Having a kid. I don’t hate kids or anything like that, I actually love them. Just. Taking care of someone until the end of my life, that’s too much for me. I don’t think I’ll ever have what it takes to do that. That’s the only reason."

 

"I understand," Junmyeon hummed and he truly did. Having a child was scary. Sometimes, he wondered if he would’ve wanted to have a child, if he had been attracted to women and had the possibility to conceive one. As of now, the knowledge that he’d probably never have a child didn’t sadden him that much. "Having a child isn’t the ultimate form of completion in life. It’s not the most important thing, a success, or something that you _have_ to want. It’s perfectly okay."

 

A silence. Short, a few breaths. "I’m glad you understand, hyung," Baekhyun said, still sounding down but his voice was just a little livelier. He wasn’t sure what expression he had on right now, but Junmyeon knew he had said the right thing.

 

"But you’re still having fun there, right?" he asked, still dropping the subject because he didn’t want Baekhyun to spend the rest of his evening down.

 

That made Baekhyun perk up a little. He went on to talk about what they had done yesterday, how funny Daeul was, his own little expressions that he used to speak, and how similar he actually was to Jongdae. He sounded really proud of himself when he recounted how he had taught everyone what chibis were and had boasted about his friend being a chibi master.

 

Junmyeon listened to it all. He listened to it with a smile on his face. Lulled by Baekhyun’s voice, his enthusiasm, and the low comfort of him. He listened until he fell asleep, still with a smile on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, Junmyeon rushed to the door when it rang, his hands letting go of the tie they were fumbling with to pull the door open.

 

All he could see was Baekhyun’s grin before his eyes widened and he reached forward when Baekhyun’s body tilted and then he just let himself blindly fall into Junmyeon’s arms.

 

"What are you doing?" Junmyeon laughed as he stumbled back a little, one of his arms wrapping around Baekhyun’s waist and the other hooking under his armpit to catch him. 

 

Baekhyun looked up from where his face was quite literally mushed against Junmyeon’s chest. He was still grinning. Junmyeon hadn’t seen his smile in three days only, counting the Friday that they didn’t end together, but he had missed this. The mole above Baekhyun’s upper lip, the shape of the tip of his nose, the light glowing on the apples of his cheeks, and the color of the skin at the corner of his eyes.

 

"I missed you, hyung," Baekhyun said. Just said. So easily. Junmyeon’s heart heard those words and rushed towards Baekhyun to make up for it, only to crash against the barrier of Junmyeon’s ribcage over and over again. But that was okay. Baekhyun was right next to his heartbeat. Right where he should be.

 

Junmyeon should say it back. He should. But he was afraid it would sound like he meant it too much. Not that Baekhyun sounded like he was joking. Junmyeon had just missed Baekhyun on another level.

 

"And yet this is not even a proper hug," he said instead, fingers pinching Baekhyun’s waist.

 

"Oh, so you want a proper hug," Baekhyun beamed, stretching his words exaggeratedly to tease Junmyeon who pressed his smile into a tight line as he watched Baekhyun push himself away from him by pressing his forehead against his chest and straightening again. Then, he stepped forward and properly hugged Junmyeon. "Thanks for catching me," he said as he dug his chin on Junmyeon’s shoulder and shook his head, tickling him with it. 

 

Junmyeon laughed, heartily, freely, and pulled him inside, patting his back, closing his eyes and enjoying the fit of Baekhyun’s body against his. He didn’t even feel any kind of regret when Baekhyun pulled away and broke the hug. He was here anyway. 

 

They went to the living room and Junmyeon finally noticed that what he had felt swinging against his back in the hug was actually a plastic bag that Baekhyun was holding on. He told Junmyeon he had gotten muffins so they could have breakfast together. Junmyeon still had an hour before he’d have to leave for work and he was now a little proud of himself for having the habit of waking up much earlier than he had to. He had always liked waking up slowly and lounging in his home before having to brave the rest of the day outside.

 

Baekhyun showed Junmyeon lots of pictures, of himself with Daeul, of his friends, of whatever they had done, what they had baked, drawn, or places they had gone to during their short time spent together. He looked like a kind boy and he was a very funny, very sulky one. Baekhyun seemed to like him so much. He grinned whenever Daeul was smiling on his screen and laughed at each moment he recounted to Junmyeon. 

 

Junmyeon listened and tried to keep him from stealing his muffins. It was nice. To be with Baekhyun again. He felt a little dramatic, they had only spent two and a half days away from each other but Junmyeon had missed him. So much. And this was nice. He listened and talked, told him about the funny things Minseok had told him, updated him his conversation with Jaehwan and Minyoung, and explained to him the plot of the drama he had discovered.

 

When they were done eating, Baekhyun asked him if he had watered the flower in his bedroom and Junmyeon assured him that he had but still followed along as Baekhyun went to check with narrowed eyes. After checking up on the flower and congratulating Junmyeon with a  haughty _well done, hyung_ that made Junmyeon breathe in deeply, he crashed on the unmade bed. The blanket rolled up under his stomach made his butt rise up a bit and Junmyeon laughed as he patted his back.

 

"You just woke up, are you already tired?" he teased him as he walked to the other side of the bed and jumped in to sit, making Baekhyun wobble a little and groan from where his face was squished into the pillow.

 

"I slept on the floor for three nights," he whined, words muffled. He turned his head just enough to scrunch his nose at Junmyeon. "There was a mattress and blankets and everything but still." He rubbed his face on the pillow until the hair strands digging into his eyelashes were folded away. "I missed this bed," he sighed, eyes shadowing contentment over his face as they closed.

 

"The bed missed you too," Junmyeon answered, sliding to lay down beside Baekhyun. He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes before he had to leave. How nice would it be to come back to Baekhyun in this exact position already and just immediately go to sleep together.

 

Because the bed had indeed missed Baekhyun. It had brooded and whined and protested his absence by making it more difficult for Junmyeon to sleep.

 

He turned to lay on his side and faced Baekhyun, meeting is gaze. He didn’t look that sleepy anymore. Junmyeon watched him turn to face him, watched him kick the blanket away with a funny face, laughed. Watched him meet his gaze and then observe him. He curled his hands against his chest and looked at Baekhyun. It brought him so much joy. Just being able to do that.

 

Baekhyun parted his lips. Junmyeon’s gaze fell down. Crashed down. Was pulled down. His bed suddenly felt so uncomfortable when he took in how plump and cushy Baekhyun’s lower lip looked, despite its thinness.

 

"Are you attracted to men, hyung?"

 

Junmyeon’s gaze jolted back up to Baekhyun’s eyes. Surprise knotted his tongue for a moment during which Baekhyun’s steady gaze on him made his entire face fumble with even more surprise.

 

"What?" was the only thing he could say, that single word slurred from the numbness on his tongue. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t look away. Junmyeon didn’t either. He didn’t want to lie. He had never been asked this question, not since Minseok had asked him more than a decade ago. This was different. This was the man he was in love with. 

 

He didn’t want to lie. He pressed his lips together. Baekhyun waited. At least, he waited. The panic surging through Junmyeon and rattling in his stomach didn’t settle down no matter how long they waited in silence. 

 

Junmyeon brought his knees up, folding them between Baekhyun and him, tucking his hands between his knees. He looked down. Not in shame. In fear.

 

"How did you know?" he asked after a silence that must’ve lasted an eternity. His mouth was dry, it made it even more difficult to form words correctly, made them slurred, made him swallow loudly, nervously. This was Baekhyun.

 

"Sorry," Baekhyun said, easy, breezy, not angry. And Junmyeon hadn’t expected him to be, hadn’t ever even thought Baekhyun would ask him this question, would ever find out about his sexuality. But still. Still, he inhaled relief as he looked back up to Baekhyun’s face. A smile. Reassurance. Junmyeon untucked his fingers. Looked down at them. Red. "You’re not really that discreet about it." he laughed. Laughed. Not mockingly. It was his awkward laugh. He looked unsure.

 

What else did he know? What else had Junmyeon been unable to hide from him? Of course. Of course. They spent so much time together. Of course Baekhyun would find out. Junmyeon was used to Minseok. He was used to Minseok knowing everything, not minding anything. What had he done? Had he touched too much? Had he looked too long? Had he said something stupid? Had he humiliated himself? Had he just ruined himself and what kept him going for the past few months?

 

"Hyung," Baekhyun called out and Junmyeon didn’t look. He didn’t look, could barely even hear that word he liked so much on Baekhyun’s mouth. Until he felt Baekhyun’s palm melting the frosted panic on his face. "It’s okay. It’s alright. It’s nothing." The concern in his face dripped warmth into his voice, steamed the fear away from Junmyeon. "I don’t mind. I really don’t."

 

Junmyeon’s breath quivered. He should say something. He should. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t find anything to even think about when Baekhyun’s thumb traced his cheekbone and then rose off his skin altogether when he pulled away.

 

He still watched Baekhyun. For any sign. Of anything. Negative. There wasn’t. Only a tight smile, with remorse. Still the same presence, still no change in how close he laid to Junmyeon.

 

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked so abruptly. I didn’t know how to word it so it just." A vague gesture with his hand, almost hitting Junmyeon in the face from how close they were. "Came out."

 

"Quite literally," Junmyeon couldn’t help but blurt out.

 

Silence. Baekhyun’s gaze locked into his, idle, and then narrowed at his first rush of a laugh. Junmyeon’s own crooked laugh nudged behind and that was enough for them to disappear into a fit of laughter. There was nothing funny. Truly. Baekhyun usually laughed at all his lame jokes. Junmyeon was just laughing because his nerves were melted down, because he was relieved, and then because Baekhyun was still laughing with him.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, tugged his nose and then his lips, stopping his laughter, listening to Baekhyun’s petering out with one last loud inhale. He shook his head, turned to lay on his back, stretched his legs out. When he turned his head to Baekhyun, the corner of his lips was resting on the dip between the two pillows.

 

"How did you know?" he asked again, this time with much less fear digging a broad hole into his voice, words not echoing in his head and through his whole body painfully.

 

Baekhyun pressed his lips together, extended his arm until he could grab the hem of Junmyeon’s shirt and just pull at it for no reason.

 

"You stare a lot," Baekhyun said and Junmyeon swallowed down. "At people. Men." He breathed, lips parting and trembling. Baekhyun huffed a chuckle out, looking down at where his hands played with the untucked shirt. "At the gym, I thought whenever you looked somewhere I’d catch you checking out a woman but no. You were always looking at men. I thought you were just envious of their body."

 

"I mean, I kind of was too," Junmyeon mumbled in-between bites into his lip.

 

"Understandable," Baekhyun snorted, letting go of the shirt and tucking his hand under the pillow instead. He looked at Junmyeon properly. "But it happened at the amusement park too. I thought you were just being envious of couples. You wouldn’t stare so much if that was it though. And I just thought about it. You’re in your thirties but you’re not married, you don’t even sleep around because you spend all your time with me, and you’ve never even mentioned a girlfriend either. The only time you talked about a crush, you addressed them as _that person_ only. No other pronouns."

 

Junmyeon laughed. Just laughed. Hid his laughter behind his hands because this was kind of embarrassing. It wasn’t as embarrassing as it would’ve been if Baekhyun had caught Junmyeon checking _him_ out, but still.

 

He dragged his hands down his face and looked at Baekhyun again. He was trying to hold his laughter in. Junmyeon could tell from the silly expression on his face, the glimmer in his eyes and the parting of his lips. An actually open mouthed smile.

 

"We should definitely play an escape room game one day," Junmyeon said, huffing a little, laughter and embarrassment. "You’re an actual detective. We’d win."

 

Baekhyun laughed and pushed his shoulder a little before pulling him closer again by catching the fabric of his shirt. It would crease. Junmyeon wouldn’t have time to tidy it before leaving. He didn’t mind. He pressed his lips into a smile, not a line.

 

"But yeah," he sighed, in relief, in joy perhaps. "I’m attracted to men. Only men."

 

Baekhyun hummed, drummed his fingers over his shoulder once and pulled his hand away. Junmyeon turned to lay on his side and look at him properly. He was glad Baekhyun still had no problem touching him.

 

"Why?" he suddenly asked, puzzling Junmyeon into a frown.

 

"Why what?"

 

"Why are you attracted to men?" Baekhyun repeated, blinking at him.

 

Junmyeon couldn’t find anything to say for a moment. He wasn’t sure what exactly Baekhyun was asking. Why exactly he was asking this. The intention behind it. Was it incomprehension? Accusation? 

 

"I don’t know," Junmyeon said, slow and hesitant, studying Baekhyun. "It’s just my sexuality. Why would there be a reason? Should there be a reason?"

 

"No no no," Baekhyun repeated, shaking his head as much as he could while laying down. He just mushed his cheek more against the pillow. "I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry. Let me rephrase it." He stopped to think. Actually think. Baekhyun never did that usually. He hummed and then spoke again. "I mean, what attracts you in men? Obviously, it’s different than what attracts me to women. I mean, not just in a physical way."

 

Junmyeon didn’t really get it. Judging by Baekhyun’s scrunched features, he wasn’t even sure Baekhyun himself knew what he was asking. He still laughed. Because it was kind of cute. Baekhyun whined and pushed his shoulder again.

 

"I’m usually better at speaking," he mumbled, as if Junmyeon would doubt it after listening to dozens of his radio shows.

 

"I know," he said before humming longly, trying to find an answer. "Well, I’ve never been attracted to women so I can’t really tell what would be different between being attracted to women and men. But I don’t think it’s that different?" He nodded to himself, looking at Baekhyun to make sure he was following his trail of thoughts. He shifted his legs for a more comfortable position, knee bumping against Baekhyun’s. "I mean, aren’t we all looking for someone nice or funny or with whom we feel comfortable? No matter the gender? The only difference for me is that a man’s body is most of the time just a little firmer, I guess. Sometimes they’re taller than me and that’s hot. Sometimes they’re more muscular than me. Sometimes they take control, sometimes I do. That’s just it."

 

He pressed his lips together, wondering if maybe he had gone too much into details. It was awkward to talk about this. Because he had just confirmed that he was gay two seconds ago. Because Baekhyun might not understand, even if he showed no sign of rejection or disgust. Because this was Baekhyun. Because he loved him.

 

But Baekhyun just hummed. Simply hummed. Then he furrowed his eyebrows and bumped his knees against Junmyeon’s when he moved his legs.

 

"I wonder how it feels," he mumbled then, in that pensive voice of his. The one that stretched his words a little.

 

"What?" Junmyeon asked, a little confused. This conversation wasn’t going the way he was expecting it to. He didn’t even know what he had expected. But it wasn’t— "Being attracted to men?" he ventured, tried, questioned. He wasn’t sure if that was what Baekhyun was asking.

 

But Baekhyun hummed. "Yeah," he said, that single word raising Junmyeon’s eyebrows up. "Is that weird?" he laughed sheepishly, raising his shoulder closer to his cheek. Embarrassed. Baekhyun rarely got embarrassed.

 

"No, it isn’t at all," Junmyeon said, smiling a him in reassurance. He didn’t want Baekhyun to think Junmyeon would make fun of him for this kind of thought.

 

Moreover, he had met his fair share of bicurious men. Some of them had been nightmares to deal with, some of them had just wanted to try having sex with a man once for the experience, some of them just wanted to discover themselves. He didn’t know if Baekhyun was any of these.

 

"I’ve just been attracted to Hyeran for what feels like my whole life," he said, eyebrows still furrowed. "I don’t know. I’ve never even considered other options. Other women. I’ve never looked at another woman and thought she was attractive. Beautiful, yes, but not attractive. And men either. I just never considered it at all."

 

Junmyeon chewed on his lower lip, raised a hand to scratch at his chin.

 

"You could now," he said, unsure of what he meant. If he meant other women. If he meant men.

 

"I just want to be on my own for now. Just happy on my own, with myself. I never did that. She was always there to be happy with me."

 

Junmyeon deflated. He shouldn’t feel disappointed.

 

But the interest was there. It was there. In other women too. But men. It was there.

 

"I understand," he said and he truly did. Being happy with one’s self. Junmyeon wasn’t sure he was happy with himself. It didn’t matter as much, to him. Being happy with himself or being happy with someone else. He didn’t prioritize any over the other. "But you don’t need to fall in love. It could help, you know. Just physical relationships. And—" He shouldn’t. He should stop. Don’t. Junmyeon, don’t. Just stop. "And even with men. You won’t know how you feel about it unless you try it."

 

"Is that how it worked for you?" Baekhyun asked and eventually he caught one of Junmyeon’s legs between his and stopped moving around. He always did that, even in his sleep. He said his legs hurt when he just rested them on top of each other.

 

"I guess?" Junmyeon said, looking over Baekhyun’s shoulder, at the potted flower in front of the window. "I kissed a girl, didn’t like it. Kissed another girl, didn’t like it either. I kissed a few girls, it didn’t work, and then I kissed a boy and it worked just fine for me."

 

It had been confusing, had taken a while. Junmyeon hadn’t sorted that out until college. Hadn’t kissed anyone until college and hadn’t wanted to put a name to anything despite the crush he had on that boy from high school. 

 

"I guess you’re right," Baekhyun hummed before laughing a little, quiet, breathy. "But I don’t think I can have sex with someone I feel no attachment to."

 

"That’s a pain in the ass," Junmyeon sighed, with a wince that made Baekhyun snort. "But I understand. I can’t either."

 

He had tried, many times. Just to feel less lonely. It only made him feel more lonely.

 

But how nice would it be. How nice would it be if he tried with Baekhyun. If Baekhyun tried with him. How nice would that be, he thought.

 

It would be pathetic of him. To just allow himself to help Baekhyun quench his curiosity, something that could end up being just a one time thing for him to rule out any options. It would be so pathetic of Junmyeon to do that. But he’d take that too. Because it was better than nothing. Because Junmyeon loved him that much.

 

Not that he needed anything from Baekhyun, though. He was okay like this too. Just laying in bed with him, looking at the corners of his eyes, each individual strand of his hair gathered into thicker strands together, the mole on his cheek, the one in his ear. Junmyeon was so used to stopping himself from doing things, desiring things that this too, he didn’t mind.

 

Baekhyun blinked. Looked down. Junmyeon’s lips tingled with delusion. Baekhyun blinked. Looked up into his eyes again.

 

"Maybe one day," he grinned, squeezing Junmyeon’s leg too hard between his.

 

Junmyeon laughed. Pushed him away. Dug his toes into his leg.

 

Wished.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I can’t believe you actually said that," Jaehwan repeated for the fourth time since Saehee had recounted him what had happened in the meeting with the Board Director.

 

Minyoung put her cup of coffee down and sighed.

 

"I almost regret saying it now," she said, glancing at Junmyeon who smiled at her, tight, probably not as reassuring as he wanted to. "It’s been almost two weeks but we haven’t heard anything from them yet."

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together and looked down at the dark coffee in his cup.

 

"Maybe they’re just taking their time with analyzing the evidence or something," he tried, although even he didn’t even believe his own explanations at this point.

 

"But the evidence was strong enough already," Saehee said, dragging her seat forward when the person sitting behind her pulled theirs back to get up.

 

"Maybe we should’ve waited a little more and collected more evidence?" Minyoung wondered, gaze flitting between everyone at the table.

 

Junmyeon shook his head. "We did our best. We waited enough and that was the only evidence we could come up with without revealing anyone’s identity."

 

"He’s right, you also couldn’t talk about this to everyone either," Jaehwan said, his slanted eyebrows directed at Minyoung. Her shoulders dropped and she held onto her cup with both hands.

 

"I guess we did do our best."

 

"We did," Junmyeon agreed, trying his hardest to smile at her. "And nothing is happening but at least nothing bad is happening either, right?"

 

Minyoung snorted. "Every morning I can’t help but wonder if today will be the day I’ll be fired."

 

Junmyeon knew that feeling.

 

"I don’t think that should happen, unless someone wants to sink the bank," Junmyeon shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

 

The door opened with a peal when someone stepped in, one of the barista’s cheery greeting following right after. Sometimes, Junmyeon wondered what it would be like to work in this kind of place, where he wouldn’t have to sit all day. It would be tiring. Working with another boss might be worth it.

 

He wasn’t used to this kind of place, this kind of meeting with colleagues outside of lunch. It was a Saturday, Junmyeon usually didn’t get out of his house with anyone but Minseok or Baekhyun on Saturday’s. But this was nice. Once in a  while, this could be nice.

 

Saehee bumped her shoulder against Minyoung’s, grinning. "If you get fired, I’ll start a protest at the bank just to get you back."

 

Minyoung snorted but her smile still expanded and Junmyeon watched with a smile of his own as Jaehwan joined in on Saehee’s mission of cheering Minyoung up. They made everything so much more bearable. The three of them. They were the reason Junmyeon had never resigned, would never resign, probably. Because they would have no reason to see each other again. He enjoyed their company.

 

He stared down at his coffee and and hoped that the one time he did something right, it wouldn’t go wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun really liked mixing soju and beer. If he felt fancy enough, or sad enough, he’d even add a bit of makgeolli inside.

 

Junmyeon figured that tonight, with both him and Minseok spilling embarrassing memories about each other, Baekhyun felt fancy and happy enough to mix in all three of the drinks standing on the table amid chips and fruits. Fruits for Minseok, chips for them. 

 

"He really only stayed so long in university because of that one hot teacher," Junmyeon accused Minseok with a wobbly finger, his shoulder pressed against Baekhyun’s and quivering with his laughter.

 

"He was hot!" Minseok defended himself with a laugh that dragged his last word out and chopped it at the same time. "He was Australian or something. He had a cute accent. He made maths a little cute."

 

He sighed dreamily before inhaling half of his glass of somaek.

 

"My teachers were just normal teachers," Baekhyun mumbled next to him, a pout gathering his features into cuteness. More cuteness than any teacher Junmyeon had ever listened to.

 

This night wasn’t an accident like the last time all three of them had drunk together. Baekhyun had actually been the one to ask if they could meet with Minseok again. His drunk memories of him were apparently good ones, surprisingly. Junmyeon had accepted with the happiest, stupidest nod ever.

 

Junmyeon shook his head and popped a small chips into his mouth.

 

"Our teachers were normal too. He just has bad taste," he whispered, loud enough for Minseok to hear but low enough for Baekhyun to laugh at his attempt at teasing his best friend.

 

And it worked. Minseok gasped exaggeratedly and widened his eyes in offense.

 

" _You_ have bad taste!" Junmyeon didn’t agree. The proof was sitting right beside him. But he didn’t say anything. Just snorted. "That’s exactly how our friendship started actually," Minseok lowered his voice to a normal tone and Junmyeon didn’t even try stopping him. 

 

It was kind of a funny story. Baekhyun leaned forward over the table with an eager smile and Junmyeon groaned halfheartedly as Minseok leaned towards his audience. He was already grinning too wide, crooked and amused.

 

"We met in class because we always somehow ended up sitting together and we didn’t really talk that much for a month but I thought he was kind of cute. With his big glasses and his correct answers to every question the teachers asked." Minseok looked at him, scrunching his nose. "What a nerd," he shook his head, ignoring Junmyeon’s groaned protest and continuing amidst Baekhyun’s laughter. His only comfort was the hand that Baekhyun patted his thigh with. "He seriously always worked so hard."

 

"That does sound like hyung," Baekhyun grinned, leaving his hand on Junmyeon’s thigh and taking his breath away with his smile instead.

 

Junmyeon grimaced at him and brought his can of beer up to take a sip of it. It was much colder than Baekhyun’s touch on him. Which was normal. But still. Junmyeon hadn’t ever found anything that felt remotely close to the way Baekhyun’s hands felt wherever they touched him.

 

"But I wanted to get to know him and I thought that perhaps he was gay. I have an eye for that, you know," Minseok boasted.

 

"You must’ve gotten old then, that eye is kinda wonky now," he teased the other, reminding him of all the straight men he ever had a crush on.

 

"Anyway," Minseok waved him off, once again ignoring him. This time, Junmyeon laughed along with Baekhyun. "I took him to a gay club and kind of hit on him to see what would happen since he didn’t seem unhappy with the place. He just got really awkward and apologized because he wasn’t interested in me like that and then said that we could still be friends and share notes in class."

 

Baekhyun burst into laughter hard enough to tilt his body towards Junmyeon’s and push him aside a little with his weight. MInseok was in no better state and Junmyeon didn’t know whether he should groan at Minseok or laugh along so he did both at the same time.

 

But he was happy. Happy that they could talk about this with Baekhyun. He had told Minseok beforehand that Baekhyun had figured out about his sexuality and Minseok hadn’t even officially talked about his own before venturing into this kind of story. Baekhyun hadn’t flinched, looked surprised, or uninterested either. He just listened, occasionally hit Junmyeon when his stupidest moments were recounted, and laughed a lot.

 

It was a relief. A treat.

 

"So we literally became friends because he rejected me. And now here we are," Minseok said, smile softening a little as he looked at Junmyeon.

 

He shrugged. "I don’t regret it," he said, accepting the strawberry MInseok was holding out to him, planted on his fork. Minseok was an essential part of his life now. He was glad they had met at the back of boring classrooms.

 

"Do you still go to gay clubs then?" Baekhyun asked, eyeing Junmyeon. "I really can’t imagine you having fun at a club."

 

Junmyeon halfheartedly pushed him on the shoulder.

 

"Him?" Minseok questioned before Junmyeon could say anything, pouting at him with a tease in his eyes. He huffed then, shaking his head and scrunching his features in mock disappointment. "He probably didn’t have sex with anyone in like five years."

 

Baekhyun choked on his drink, putting it down and coughing as he laughed. He really was getting more than a little drunk. 

 

Junmyeon challenged Minseok with raised eyebrows. He had better eyebrows. He won.

 

"It’s two years, first of all," he corrected him, ignoring Minseok’s whooping to tilt his head up in pride. "And I’m very good at giving orgasms. I don’t need anyone. I’m enough for myself."

 

He realized what he said only when Minseok’s laughter pushed him to lay down and he looked at Baekhyun in a rush, wondering if he had gone too far. But Baekhyun’s head was hidden in the crook of his elbow, arm folded on the table, as his shoulders quivered with a wheezing laugh. The sudden panic bled out of him with laughter too.

 

Baekhyun didn’t mind. He laughed hard, his features scrunched into a grimace when he straightened up and looked at Minseok.

 

"He really just said that," Baekhyun choked, Minseok’s laughter getting even higher at those words.

 

"What? It’s true!" Junmyeon defended himself as much as he could between bouts of painful laughter. It felt like abs were growing on his stomach. If only it worked that way. Why didn’t it work that way?

 

He had no abs, but Junmyeon still felt nice. Happy.

 

Baekhyun might not feel anything for him, but that was okay. They could laugh together. Drink together. Talk together. Just be happy together. Not _together._ But that was alright. This was enough.

 

Baekhyun volunteered himself to share his own embarrassing stories. They laughed a lot. Laughed about Baekhyun’s memory of opening up a kissing booth at a festival back in high school only for no one but his own friends to show up. And Hyeran. Laughing at his recollection of that one time he had said the wrong temperature during a show and the board was bombarded with teasing messages from his listeners, about him having to come in with shorts and flip-flops for the next broadcast even if it was the middle of December.

 

They laughed and laughed and drank and ate and leaned against each other and laughed and drank more and soon, Junmyeon ran out of happiness.

 

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t okay with this. This wasn’t enough.

 

He yearned for more. So much more. Why did he keep trying to tell himself he was okay with just this much? He wasn’t. Sometimes, he wasn’t.

 

He went to bed early, leaving the others to keep drinking without him. Seeing and hearing Baekhyun laugh hurt. It hurt to see that laugh and know that he wouldn’t ever be able to kiss it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going to Mr. Kim’s office was a completely different experience from going to Mr. Yoo’s office.

 

The Vice Branch Manager always looked at Junmyeon to greet him, never spent a whole minute in silence to finish whatever it was he was doing before finally paying attention to him. He never looked annoyed by the disruption, always had a polite smile on. He was always working. Always looking at papers, typing on his keyboard, making a phone call, working. Mr Yoo was always just staring at his computer screen, a pile of documents untouched on the corner of his desk

 

Junmyeon smiled back at Mr. KIm as he stood in front of his desk, hands joined in front of him as the man put his pen down.

 

He wasn’t perhaps the best person ever, he hadn’t been willing to help them with the sexual harassment case, but he was decent. A part of Junmyeon would always be taken aback and disappointed at his lack of actions but he was a good person to work with, at the very least.

 

"I heard from my uncle that you’d met with the Board Director," he said, looking up at Junmyeon with the trace of his smile still lingering on.

 

Junmyeon was taken aback for a moment. This was the first time he was hearing about the meeting from an official since it had taken place. It hadn’t been forgotten, after all.

 

"We did," he confirmed after clearing his throat. "We met, discussed the matter, and submitted the evidences. We were told that they’d be taking care of it."

 

The man hummed before grimacing a little. "I’ve also heard that you threatened them."

 

There was no particular resentment in his voice but Junmyeon still chose his words carefully.

 

"More than a threat, it was just what we thought would be the right thing to do if the proper measures aren’t taken."

 

It was Minyoung’s spontaneous doing but Junmyeon didn’t see it as an error. She was actually right. Their clients deserved to know. And if the board refused to do anything, then this would still impact the bank in the slightest. Not enough, but better than nothing at all.

 

"Well," the Vice Branch Manager sighed. "It wasn’t the smartest move, in my opinion. But at least people are talking about it. I just wanted to let you know."

 

Junmyeon bowed, relief pressing his head down. It wasn’t forgotten. It was just taking some time.

 

"I’m also proud of you for actually pulling through and doing this," he said when Junmyeon straightened up again.

 

He shook his head. "I couldn’t have done this on my own. Minyoung helped a lot."

 

Mr. Kim smiled, head nodding slightly. "I hope your efforts will be recompensed."

 

Junmyeon thanked him with another bow. He hoped so too.

 

When he got out of the office, Junmyeon was ready to either win this or lose his job. In the grand scheme of this, finding himself jobless didn’t matter that much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon closed the fridge and stared at the drawing plastered on the door with a magnet. Plump cheeks, droopy eyes, a bean sprout on top of a cute head, and a flower pose. It was his drawing of Baekhyun.

 

It wasn’t his first time seeing it but every time he so much as caught a glimpse of it while eating here, preparing coffee, just walking past the kitchen door in the hallway, he couldn’t stop a silly grin from gathering his cheeks into happy fluffs. Baekhyun had really put his chibi of him on the fridge.

 

He bit into his smile and went out of the kitchen, heading to the bedroom instead. Baekhyun was still in bed, in the same exact position he had crashed into it after opening the door to Junmyeon. It was another night Junmyeon couldn’t sleep through on his own.

 

"Did you drink well?" Baekhyun asked in a sleepy mumble when Junmyeon laid down next to him.

 

"Well, it was just water," Junmyeon laughed, feet clashing against Baekhyun’s under the blanket until they both shifted to settle down correctly.

 

Baekhyun opened his eyes and rested his arm across Junmyeon’s chest, patting him with a light, cajoling movement. Junmyeon felt his heart cradled and lulled under that hand. Baekhyun did it without even knowing Junmyeon’s heart was there. He probably didn’t know. He didn’t know.

 

He shifted to lay on his side, letting himself get just a little closer to Baekhyun’s closed eyelids. They opened. Junmyeon didn’t look away, admired the dreamy edges of Baekhyun’s eyes, the lucidity of his gaze even through the blurry veil of drowsiness. Baekhyun hummed a question, Junmyeon listened. Just listened to that deep sound. It sounded more comfortable than the bed they were sleeping on.

 

It was a wonder he slept the best with Baekhyun even though his heart was rarely ever still in his proximity. Even if it didn’t always beat wildly, Junmyeon often felt breathless, restless, still and trembly at the same time.

 

He closed his eyes. Baekhyun had such a nice voice. He opened them again. Met Baekhyun’s gaze. The dark of the room suited his eyes. Made them sparkle more. Made Junmyeon pay even more attention than usual. He should draw these eyes. He should. And that mouth. Cheekbones. The mole on his cheek. He should. He should.

 

"You should do some ASMR for me," Junmyeon’s heart whispered before he could stop it.

 

"ASMR?" Baekhyun repeated, hooking his leg around Junmyeon’s. Bare. He was wearing a shirt today, at least. Had dropped the shorts a few nights ago because it was too hot. Each syllable sounded bare.

 

Junmyeon hummed. "So I can sleep better. It helps," he explained, even if that wasn’t entirely true. That wasn’t what ASMR helped him with. But Baekhyun’s voice, that would help him sleep. And maybe he was just a little greedy too.

 

"I can do it," Baekhyun said, sleep peeling off his voice and revealing a layer of enthusiasm so suddenly. "I watch a lot of ASMR. I’ll be the best ASMR for you, hyung," he said, grinning as he moved closer to Junmyeon, until he could feel his breath on his own nose.

 

Junmyeon chuckled, an airy sound that rendered him breathless. Or not. Maybe that was just because this was the closest Baekhyun had ever been to him. With his eyes and his cute nose and the hand that suddenly cupped Junmyeon’s cheek and drew his heart to it. But it couldn’t reach it, so it simply threw itself against the barrier of Junmyeon’s chest over and over again.

 

"I’ll take care of you, hyung," Baekhyun whispered, truly whispered. So hushed Junmyeon’s gaze fell to his lips just to watch them move and figure out if he was hearing the right words or not. A brush of Baekhyun’s thumb against his cheekbone made him close his eyes. He didn’t want Baekhyun to see the way Junmyeon saw him. "You’ve had a hard day, right?"

 

He hummed, just out of habit, and he pushed himself closer, just a little closer, just until he felt his knuckles graze the fabric of Baekhyun’s shirt. 

 

"You always work so hard, hyung." Serene, so serene. Junmyeon could picture his expression behind his closed eyelids. Could hear the smile in his voice, in the warmth of it, the muffled end of his sentence. A thumb brushed down his cheek, fingers nestling right under his ear, spreading over his neck. "You can take a break from time to time. You should take a break. We can take that break together, right?"

 

This sounded just like the radio. But better. Because Baekhyun only touched his heart through the radio but here, he could touch his cheek, his jaw, pull the corner of his lips up into half of a smile as he breathed, just let Junmyeon listen to the sound of his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. A graze of his finger against his lower lip. Out.

 

"You know," Baekhyun whispered, the sound of his swallowing clear in the silence of the room. His hand slid over Junmyeon’s neck, his fingers circled a spot on his nape. A plumose touch that felt like the words swaying out of his mouth themselves. "I think we should go somewhere together. Like at the amusement park. But better. For two days. Three. Vacation, for us. Would you like that?"

 

He would. Junmyeon would. He would love to have Baekhyun to himself. Just to himself. No one else. Just Baekhyun and him. Him and Baekhyun. His Baekhyun. With his smiles and his cheery gaze and his sad silences and the grounding graze of his legs against Junmyeon’s. Not an accident. Junmyeon’s touches were never accidents. Just checks. If Baekhyun was here. If Baekhyun was more than just a wish. By his side.

 

His fingers massaged a trail up from Junmyeon’s nape to the back of his head, slug, tender, embracing each strand of his hair on his way. His voice felt like a hug. A hug that was designed just for Junmyeon. That fit him inside entirely. No baggy space, no forgotten nooks, no echoes around him. Just a voice kissing his ears. Just Baekhyun’s shirt gripped in his fingers. A snuggle at the end of the day. A recompense.

 

The hair on his forehead swept to the side, swept up, twice, finger pads just engraining relaxation into Junmyeon’s head.

 

"Hyung," Baekhyun called, a breath that was fragranced with sleep. Junmyeon inhaled it like it would be his last breath. Each word felt like a pat, this one felt like a blanket. Not too short. His feet didn’t peek out, uncovered. Not too long, it didn’t drown Junmyeon under its weight. "Hyung." A second blanket.

 

Junmyeon burrowed under it, inside it, around it. Let it burrow inside of him. He could fall asleep. His body felt like it was floating. But it felt like Baekhyun’s voice was holding his hand, keeping him in a clasp, guiding him towards a restful slumber.

 

"Can I kiss you?"

 

Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered open, the path towards a dream blurred by the clarity of Baekhyun’s voice. Of his eyes. Can I kiss you? Baekhyun had just asked if he could kiss Junmyeon. 

 

Through the haze of drowsiness, Junmyeon saw that Baekhyun wasn’t blinking too quickly, wasn’t looking at him through drunken or half-asleep eyes. His heart unraveled, spread all over him, puffed up each corner of his body until he couldn’t feel anything but its constant, quickening pulses.

 

His fingers were still gripping Baekhyun’s shirt. Baekhyun’s hand was still weaved into his hair, palm covering Junmyeon’s ear. Not enough for the echo of his question not to resonate in his head.

 

He parted his lips. Baekhyun’s gaze fell to them. He closed them. The gaze remained lodged there. Junmyeon felt his heartbeat on the corner of his mouth, on the twitch of it.

 

"Why?" he whispered, not as strong as Baekhyun’s voice, much weaker, a shiver in the air.

 

He heard Baekhyun swallowing again. Heard the sound his mouth made when it opened for him to speak.

 

"I just want to know how it feels," he murmured and Junmyeon felt each of his words caress his lips, his breath, tantalizing, pulling, pulling so hard.

 

Junmyeon didn’t think. He didn’t think at all. He leaned forward and kissed Baekhyun.

 

He crushed a trembling breath between their lips, crushed his gaze under his eyelids, crushed the fabric of Baekhyun’s shirt in his fists. It didn’t feel like a crash when their lips pressed together. It felt like a finalization. 

 

He could feel the texture of Baekhyun’s mouth perfectly under his, could feel where his lower lip pressed on Baekhyun’s own, where the border of that lower lip was, where Junmyeon kissed the skin of his chin instead of that lip. He could feel the faint twitch of Baekhyun’s upper lip against his, could vaguely locate the hills of his cupid’s bow. He could taste the exhilaration as their lips remained pressed together, just a little, not too much strength, no movement. Just freedom for Baekhyun to push him away, despite how hard Junmyeon was clinging to his clothes. Just a kiss. Just a fit.

 

Then, it turned into more. It turned into a blend. Baekhyun moved his lips against his, pulled away the slightest bit to kiss him again, kiss him properly, peck his lower lip, his upper. Junmyeon exhaled through his nose, inhaled life through their kiss. There was a strain on his neck, he wasn’t lying on the pillow properly but he wasn’t holding himself up too much either. He didn’t mind. He could barely feel anything other than Baekhyun’s lips against his, Baekhyun’s legs caught in his, Baekhyun’s hand encasing joy into his skin, with the slide of his hand down from the back of Junmyeon’s head, over his clothed spine, and the small of his back.

 

Junmyeon just let him. Let him. He didn’t want to overpower him, didn’t want to overwhelm him. He just let him and kissed him. Pecked a slope of his upper lip, pecked the opposite of it. Kissed the plump gathering of skin right under the dip of his cupid’s bow. Inscribed each textured line of Baekhyun’s lips into his mind, into his own skin. His heart was crushed between their chest when he felt Baekhyun pressing on his lower back, pulling him closer. It was alright. It was still beating. Better than ever. It was alright.

 

He felt his chest pressing against Baekhyun’s. As soon as their heartbeats collided, Baekhyun broke the kiss with a startle. He blinked his eyes open and met Baekhyun’s wide gaze. It only remained wide for a breath before he smiled, laughed. The embarrassed curve of his lips, the awkward laugh.

 

"Sorry," he whispered. Junmyeon couldn’t get himself to let go of his shirt. Couldn’t get himself to think about what he was apologizing for. "I’m just so used to feeling," a pause, a shake of his head, "something when I’m pressed against the person I’m kissing."

 

Junmyeon finally ripped his gaze away from Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun’s eyes. Lips. Lips he had just kissed. He looked down, tried looking down at where their chests were separated by just a centimeter.

 

"Right," Junmyeon said, looking up at him again. The lack of breasts. It wasn’t the first time he had heard that. Though, usually it happened in the bathroom or the back alley of a nightclub and he was always left alone after hearing that same exact sentence. "It must feel weird, indeed."

 

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He wouldn’t apologize for not having breasts. He swallowed, slowly let go of Baekhyun’s shirt. But his hand was still firm on Junmyeon’s back. He shook his head.

 

"It’s not weird at all," he smiled. Stopped. Bit his lower lip. Stole Junmyeon’s gaze and his breath. Whispered. "Can I kiss you again?"

 

This time, Junmyeon didn’t think either.

 

"Can you?" he couldn’t help but ask, unsure if he alluded to the fact that perhaps Baekhyun should’ve used _May I_ for proper speech, or to the fact that he had desperately wanted to ask if Baekhyun could kiss him at least ten times a day for the past weeks.

 

"I can," Baekhyun easily replied, with a nod.

 

This time, it was the merriment of Baekhyun wanting to kiss him a second time that tied their lips together into a kiss. A laugh that Junmyeon stifled between their lips. Baekhyun’s or his. Or theirs. It felt like they were melding into one single being every time they kissed. It was only their second kiss.

 

It was just as slow. Drowsy and soundless. Something that fit them perfectly, made them fit perfectly together. He didn’t grip Baekhyun’s shirt this time, he slid his hand over his waist and held onto it as he just grazed his teeth over his lower lip a little, just a little before kissing it properly again. Baekhyun did the same. There was no tongue, perhaps that would be too much, too early. This was just soft, soft as the breath that tickled him when their noses grazed. Soft as the way Baekhyun’s fingers hovered just over his cheek, not on his back anymore, not touching exactly but not parting away either.

 

The same way they didn’t really part away when they stopped kissing. Junmyeon’s hand still held onto his waist, on that faint dip under his ribs. They breathed together, just breathed. Not panting, not heaving, just breathing. Baekhyun made breathing so much easier.

 

Baekhyun made laughing after kissing so much easier. He pinched Junmyeon leg with his toes after a silent moment of staring at each other, waving any question or doubt off by making Junmyeon laugh, laughing himself. No change. The same mischievous, satisfied laugh he had on whenever he made Junmyeon laugh.

 

Junmyeon stole his pillow as revenge for pinching him. Baekhyun always attacked him with his toes. He held it away even as Baekhyun used a stronger offense, a whiny _hyung_ with the lips that he had just kissed Junmyeon with.

 

Junmyeon didn’t give it back and the pillow eventually fell off the bed in their squabble. Baekhyun refused to pick it up, refused to let Junmyeon pick it up. They slept on one pillow together, heads crushing the red flowers patterned on the case, bodies so close, not even dust could intrude between them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They didn’t talk about it again. Didn’t mention it. Didn’t look back on it. Didn’t change anything either.

 

Baekhyun still tickled him with his toes, still carried his red lighter around. Junmyeon still let him sleep over, still enjoyed the full silences they shared.

 

Baekhyun still cheered a little _yay_ when Junmyeon was the one to cuddle up to him first, still cooked with him in the mornings. Junmyeon still told him every little thing about his day, still couldn’t sleep in a bed Baekhyun wasn’t in.

 

Junmyeon was still Junmyeon. Baekhyun was still Baekhyun. Junmyeon still loved Baekhyun. A little more each day. As cliché as that sounded, it was true. He didn’t find a new thing to love about Baekhyun each day. Because Baekhyun was always Baekhyun. Always the same. Always just as magic, just as caring, just as similar to Junmyeon in his way of being. In his being. In his feeling. 

 

It was just a kiss. To Baekhyun. Junmyeon was aware of it. Just curiosity, just an experiment maybe. He didn’t know what was the verdict, how Baekhyun felt about kissing a man, kissing _him_. He didn’t want to think about it. He thought about it a lot. It still haunted him a lot. 

 

The texture of Baekhyun’s lips. The pace of his breathing as they kissed. How secure his hand had felt on Junmyeon’s cheek, on his lower back. How easy it had been to slot their lips together and just kiss. Just kiss. For a moment, a short moment that would stretch on forever in Junmyeon’s mind. His body had felt unforgettable against his, his waist, the fabric of his shorts.

 

Junmyeon thought about it a lot. Just the kiss. Not what it could mean. He knew it didn’t mean to Baekhyun what it meant to him. He knew. He didn’t mind. Junmyeon would take it. He would take this over nothing.

 

He thought about it a lot. Them. Kissing. Holding each other. He was the first man Baekhyun had ever kissed. That was nothing. To Junmyeon, it could mean everything. It meant everything. Baekhyun had kissed him. That was so simple. Just a press of a mouth against another. It was nothing. To Junmyeon, it was special. Something that made _him_ special.

 

The thought worked better than anything. The memory came to his mind a lot, lingered, guided his hand over his body, down. The ecstasy was more blissful than ever, each time.

 

The aftermath was more pathetic than ever, every single time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Are you sure you’re not going on a date today?" Jaehwan asked, elbowing Jeha while wiggling his eyebrows like the child that he was.

 

"What date? I’m not!" Jeha insisted, although the blush dusting her cheeks with embarrassment was far from making her words believable.

 

"Come on," Minyoung teased her, drumming her fingers over the file she was holding. "You’ve been putting much more attention to your makeup lately. Isn’t that right, Junmyeon?" she asked him, looking at him with wide eyes as if she really needed the confirmation.

 

Truthfully, none of them did. They all knew Jeha had a date tonight. She had been having dates, skipping their hoesik much more lately and no one said anything but it was obvious. Today though, they were decided to tease her about it as much as possible. Because she was funny. Because she was cute and they all loved her very much even if she had the tendency to always print the wrong papers _and_ somehow never get the printer to work at the same time.

 

"Well, Jeha has always been pretty," Junmyeon hummed, tilting his head at Minyoung and pursing his lips as if he was in deep analysis of the subject they were debating on, even if no one even actually denied anything. He looked at Jeha then, smile spreading up to his ears. "But it is true that you’ve been looking just a little prettier than ever nowadays."

 

Minyoung laughed, only fueled by the little whine Jeha let out while pushing her with an embarrassed fist.

 

"Am I paying you to stand around and laugh like gossiping old ladies all day?"

 

Everyone shut up at once, eyes widening and stance straightening as they turned to look at the Branch Manager who was just getting back from his lunch break. A break that had stretched until the middle of the afternoon.

 

They all bowed at once, apologizing with a unique voice and avoiding to look at each other just to seem more serious. Junmyeon bit on his lower lip as he kept his head down.

 

"Why are you still standing here instead of getting back to work?" were the words thrown at them harshly, the snap in Mr. Yoo’s voice startling even Mr. Cho who was sitting at his own desk and had nothing to do with the matter. Junmyeon saw him jump from he corner of his eye and bit onto his lip harder.

 

There was no work to get back to. The bank was empty of clients and they couldn’t just magically create work to do when it was already nearing their closing time. Most of them, in his little group of friends, liked to work in-between attending to clients to finish off things early and avoid the necessity of staying behind after closing time.

 

The clack of Mr Yoo’s shoes didn’t echo in the main room but echoed with each beat of Junmyeon’s heart. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t fear either. Anger. Resentment. He hated this. He hated this so much.

 

"Just because we managed to get back into the top three of the branch ranking doesn’t mean you can just laze around like jobless idiots."

 

He hated this. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t done scolding them. He wanted them to get back to work but he would also scream at them more if anyone moved before he was done discharging all his disdain and abuse of power on them.

 

"Park Minyoung," he called out as he walked past them. Junmyeon felt his body rigidifying. "In my office. Everyone else just get back to your damn work."

 

Junmyeon looked up in time to see the hesitation in the first step Minyoung took. Their eyes met and he couldn’t even give her any kind of smile. She still gave him a wobbly one, more of a tight press of her lips than anything else. 

 

Junmyeon watched her follow on the Branch Manager’s steps towards the hallway and stood there as everyone scattered around. Jaehwan met his gaze, remained silent, but the slant of his eyebrows was enough for Junmyeon to read the dread he probably felt as much as Junmyeon did. He silently went back to his desk and didn’t do anything else. Both because he virtually had nothing to do besides taking care of some paperwork and replying to a few emails, and because he truly couldn’t do anything when his head was fuming with the panic of what could be happening in Mr. Yoo’s office.

 

Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe they shouldn’t have done anything. Maybe they should’ve just resigned and found a better job somewhere else.

 

But this had been the best thing to do. It had been. Junmyeon grabbed a pen and aimlessly held it in his hand to keep himself grounded, even though the pen kept sliding against the dampness of his palm and the jitter in his fingers.

 

It didn’t take too long for Minyoung to come out. He stood up as soon as he heard her heels clicking in the hallway. She stepped into the main room and she didn’t look hurt or particularly shaken. Just a tad annoyed, maybe slumping as she walked towards her desk, next to Junmyeon’s own booth.

 

"What happened?" he urged her, gaze jolting all over her as he watched her drop on her seat and take a deep breath in.

 

"Nothing," she sighed out, shaking her head and looking at him. "He just scolded me for not having scheduled the monthly meeting to this week instead of the second monday of the month like we do every month. Just an excuse, I guess."

 

Junmyeon couldn’t even feel any glimmer of relief. Couldn’t even let his body melt into his seat and calm down. He looked at her, pressed his lips together, fiddled with his tie and tried to overpower the urge to loosen it. 

 

She was wearing long earrings today. She always wore a different pair, always wore something on her ears everyday, her jewelry bared by the gathering of her hair into a ponytail. Today, she was wearing earrings that reached the very beginning of her jawline. They swayed weakly as she stared at her computer screen, hand resting next to her mouse but not shaking it to wake the computer up.

 

She looked tired. She was exhausted. Junmyeon knew, because he felt it too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Why do you never draw yourself?"

 

Junmyeon stopped, pencil hovering over the drama character he was drawing. He tilted his head, looked at the hairstyle, and judged that it needed a few more strands added to the bangs.

 

"I don’t know," he said, inhaling the smoke Baekhyun blew out since he was sitting close to Junmyeon, knees digging on the couch as he watched Junmyeon draw.

 

He had discovered that Baekhyun liked doing that. Often, he asked him to show him whatever he had drawn last or asked him to draw something on the spot. Usually it was a pose he did. Baekhyun standing with an arm raised to show off the biceps they could barely even see. Baekhyun standing with one leg raised and his two hands held up in finger hearts. Baekhyun laying on the couch in a raunchy position that was too funny for Junmyeon to stare at it for too long without bursting into laughter.

 

And Junmyeon liked drawing him. So it was okay, he didn’t mind. Baekhyun was much more supportive about this simple hobby than Junmyeon had expected him to be. He always complimented his chibis in detail, praising the plumpness of a cheek, the goofiness of a smile, positively pointing out every single detail Junmyeon hadn’t felt confident in and making him feel better about them without Junmyeon even telling him what was it that didn’t satisfy him in his creations.

 

"You’ve never tried?" Baekhyun asked and Junmyeon looked up at him, gaze trailing after the bright grey swirls of the smoke billowing out of his mouth. He sniffled. This scent suited Baekhyun. He needed a cigarette.

 

"No, I did," Junmyeon said, stopping when Baekhyun reached towards him with his cigarette held between two of his fingers. 

 

He nodded down at it and Junmyeon looked down, hesitating for a heartbeat before parting his lips and catching the filtered end of Baekhyun’s cigarette between them. He was careful not to let it touch the inside of his mouth, unwilling to accidentally wet it as he took a drag. When he blew it out, Junmyeon could say this was his best cigarette ever. His insides were warmer than ever. Not because of the cigarette. Because Baekhyun holding a cigarette for him to take a drag of was more attractive than it should be.

 

Junmyeon kind of wanted to curl up on his couch and wail at how charming Baekhyun was. Instead, he looked at Baekhyun again and, noticing the satisfied tug at one end of his mouth, the craving distorted and devoured more of him. Not for cigarettes. For Baekhyun.

 

A kiss. He wanted a kiss. He longed for a kiss. He didn’t ask for it. Baekhyun didn’t hand it to him.

 

"What’s the problem then?" Baekhyun asked, reaching towards the table to tap the ash off his cigarette.

 

Junmyeon pursed his lips, squished them together, crushed them to destroy the ghost of Baekhyun’s lips. It was so real. So real he could almost still feel the texture of the plump, naturally puckered center at the very border of his lower lip.

 

"It just never really works," he admitted with a sigh, squishing what he had just drawn under his palm as Baekhyun grabbed the ashtray and rested it on his lap, sitting properly again, shoulder pressed against Junmyeon’s. "I don’t really know how to draw myself."

 

"Really?" Baekhyun said, pausing to nudge his cigarette between his lips. "Let’s do it together. I shall guide you," he said, smoky and cheeky.

 

Junmyeon snorted at him but still turned the page. He hadn’t really tried drawing himself in a long time. He wasn’t that hopeful but if Baekhyun wanted him to, he’d try.

 

"Draw the head first. That’s always where you start, right?" Baekhyun asked, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. 

 

He didn’t move to put the ashtray down. It would make him move Junmyeon since they were pressed together. He was actually pretty sure their skin was stuck together. They were both wearing tank tops and despite the open balcony door, the living room was still pretty warm.

 

Junmyeon inhaled deeply, the lingering smell of Baekhyun’s cigarette fused in with his shower gel. Fruity, always. Like a child.

 

He drew a head. Not his head, just a head like any others and then added the hair, strands swept up into a formal hairstyle he wore every day to work.

 

"You should add bunny ears," Baekhyun said out of nowhere, startling Junmyeon into looking up at him.

 

"Bunny ears?" he repeated, taken aback. "Why?"

 

Baekhyun laughed, not embarrassed but just a little sheepish. He shrugged, shoulder dragging up against Junmyeon’s.

 

"I don’t know, it’s cute," he said, stretching his last word out partially defensively, partially because he was laughing. "It would look good on you."

 

Junmyeon narrowed his eyes at him, pulling away just a little bit.

 

"Is that a fetish?" he asked, the playfulness he wanted to put in his words dampened by the hesitation in his voice.

 

They usually didn’t make this kind of joke, didn’t talk about this kind of topic. They had kissed. Junmyeon didn’t know if this was acceptable.

 

But Baekhyun didn’t show unease. Instead, he shrugged, actually shrugged in a comical way this time, raising his hands, palms facing upwards nonchalantly.

 

"It might be," he said, cheesy smile deepening his voice.

 

Junmyeon snorted laughter out and looked back down at his sketchbook. He added the bunny ears, making them stand unfolded on top of his head, slightly slanted outwards.

 

Then, he glided his hand downwards and stopped, the tip of his pencil hovering over the gap where a face should be. A face. He needed a face.

 

"What’s wrong?" Baekhyun asked, voice low but close to his ear, not urging but curious and patient in its depth. His voice was always just a little hoarser after smoking.

 

Junmyeon pressed his lips together, pulling them into his mouth, scraping his tongue over his upper lip, and then his lower one.

 

"For this kind of style, you need to emphasize on certain features to make the character recognizable," he explained, looking at the bunny ears he had drawn. He scratched a nail over them. "I don’t really have any striking feature to emphasize."

 

Baekhyun’s arm pressed more into his as he shifted on the couch.

 

"You don’t have to have any striking feature. You just need to look like yourself."

 

He didn’t know how to. He didn’t know what he looked like. Junmyeon was thirty three years old. He still didn’t know how to represent himself.

 

He stared down at the blank face. Baekhyun hummed, a stream of relaxation.

 

"For starters," he said, humming more and getting closer to Junmyeon, close enough for Junmyeon to laugh at the very obviously exaggerated seriousness of his expression as he studied Junmyeon’s face. "Your eyebrows. They’re short and thick."

 

"What?" Junmyeon laughed, pushing Baekhyun away from his face with a gentle hand against his chest. He straightened a strap of his tank top, put it back over Baekhyun’s shoulder properly instead of letting it fall down towards his arm. "How can eyebrows be short and thick?"

 

Baekhyun gave him a mock offended look. "I don’t know, it’s your eyebrows. And you’re the artist!"

 

Junmyeon huffed at him and looked back down at his unfinished drawing. He stared. Baekhyun let him. For a moment that felt much more important than it truly was. Junmyeon stared at the absence on his face and then drew the first line of his eyebrows. He made them short, shorter than the average person’s and thick, not overly thick but just enough for it to stand out a little.

 

He stopped. Stared. Went over the eyebrows once more, darkening them. Stared more. Then he drew the eyes. He made them round, not too big, and added a short slanted line to the the arch of his eyelashes. Just because it felt right. He made a second, smaller arch for the eyelid. Stared. Pursed his lips. Felt Baekhyun’s fingers pulling on a loose thread on the hem of his shorts, his knuckles brushing Junmyeon’s bare thigh. He stared. He drew the mouth. A smile, small but open mouthed. Junmyeon smiled a lot nowadays. He drew a row of teeth, didn’t delimit them individually, just left it a slightly curved arch.

 

He stared. Not for too long. He drew the body. Small shoulders and a suit. A loose tie, the two lapels visible, the shorter one peeking underneath the longer one. A little messy. Because that was him. He drew the blazer buttoned but didn’t draw the button, it would be hidden underneath the untucked tie. For the pants, he drew shorts. He’d color them dark blue, like his favorite pair of shorts. The blazer would be grey, his favorite suit to wear at work. To go along with the bunny ears, Junmyeon drew a carrot in his hand, arm stretched forward as if he were offering it to someone. That was probably what he’d do.

 

Baekhyun was silent beside him but not really. Junmyeon could hear him breathe, could hear his quiet sounds of amazement, of support. He drew legs, short, and then dress shoes. They’d be brown. His favorite pair for work. He traced a line on each leg, near the shoes, to make long socks, and then wrapped the drawing up with a small, puffy bunny tail peeking behind him. He perfected the ears, the fingers of his hands. He grabbed his eraser and redrew the tail, redrew the tip of one shoe. He added the collar of a shirt around the knot of the tie.

 

He pulled his hand away. Stared. He had drawn himself. Stared. Junmyeon had completed his drawing of himself. Stared more, at the slightly wonky ears, the asymmetric eyes. It was his first drawing of himself.

 

"How did you draw that so quickly and so perfectly?" Baekhyun said, pulling Junmyeon’s gaze up to him. He was grinning, looking down at the drawing, his lips parted in wonder. He somehow made real, actually open-mouthed smiles look good.

 

Junmyeon beamed, raising his shoulders up towards his ears, the corners of his lips up into his cheeks.

 

"Thank you," he breathed out, heart beating a bit too quickly in his chest. Not because of the compliment. He didn’t know why. He had just drawn himself completely, entirely, for the first time ever.

 

Baekhyun reached to pat chibi Junmyeon’s bunny ear with the tip of his finger.

 

"Since you drew this thanks to me, you should gift it to me, hyung," he declared with assurance, with enough confidence to make Junmyeon laugh.

 

"People usually don’t ask people to gift them something, Baekhyun-ah," he teasingly chided the other, a titter stuttering in his chest at the grimace Baekhyun made. "But you’re kind of right."

 

He carefully ripped the page out of his sketchbook . The second page ripped for Baekhyun. He usually never ripped pages except to stick them to bottles, not even when he failed a drawing. He just erased it or turned the page. But he ripped it out and handed it to Baekhyun who accepted it with a grin that made his cheeks cuddle into his eyes and made Junmyeon want to cuddle up to his cheeks.

 

"Thank you!" he said, formally. This word was always formal. Perhaps a habit from his radio shows. He continued grinning at the drawing, putting it close in front of his eyes, studying it. "I’ll take Junmyeonnie and put it next to Baekhyunnie on my fridge."

 

Fuzzy. He laughed. Bubbly. The sound jumped from his mouth, collided with Baekhyun’s laughter. They meshed together and bounced all over Junmyeon’s home. He felt like his heart was jumping around too, all over him. Not high enough for Baekhyun to see it, but still reaching merry heights.

 

He liked that. The image of them, together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waiter smiled at them as he slid two bowls from the tray to the table along with few side dishes, wishing them a good meal.

 

"We could’ve made bibimbap on our own," Minseok mumbled as he pulled his bowl closer to himself and grabbed his utensils.

 

"It would’ve taken us the whole afternoon," Junmyeon countered with a laugh.

 

"It wouldn’t have!" Minseok said, breaking the egg yolk in his bowl and mixing  everything together. "I’m really good with knives."

 

Junmyeon gave him a look. "That didn’t sound scary at all," he snorted.

 

Minseok raised his eyebrows into a funny, unbothered expression, making Junmyeon laugh. He reached for his water, took a sip, and then finally started mixing in his own food. The first mouthful was a mix of flavors that pushed a hum out of him.

 

"Or maybe you just thought I’d be less likely to scold you in public," Minseok suddenly said, pointing at him with his chopsticks and narrowed eyes.

 

Junmyeon stopped chewing for a fleeting moment before letting out a quiet laugh and looking down at his food. He picked the stripes of carrots from the rice and shoved them into his mouth one by one.

 

"Why would you scold me," he huffed, although he avoided Minseok’s gaze because he knew exactly why.

 

"Perhaps because you shouldn’t let a straight man play with your feelings," Minseok easily stated, no sign of chiding or accusation in his voice or stature. Just a statement. One they were both aware of the importance of.

 

That didn’t change anything. Not for Junmyeon. Not right now.

 

"It was just a kiss," he lied. It wasn’t just a kiss to him.

 

Minseok sighed. He knew it wasn’t. They hadn’t talked about it. They didn’t need to. Minseok knew him. He had seen him with Baekhyun more than once.

 

"But do you feel okay about him just experimenting his sexuality on you?" Minseok insisted, the concern in his voice dampening the furrow of his eyebrows.

 

Junmyeon rested the tip of his chopsticks against the rim of his bowl.

 

"We’ve both been in this position more than once before. There’s nothing different about this."

 

Minseok sighed. "If you say so," he said, dropping the subject for good.

 

"It’s just a kiss," Junmyeon mumbled to himself, smiling a little. No bounciness or happiness in this one.

 

Maybe it wasn’t just a kiss. Maybe Junmyeon did wish that Baekhyun would magically figure out that he liked kissing men. That Baekhyun would magically fall in love with him in the blink of an eye.

 

But that was too extraordinary to happen. That wasn’t how things worked. Junmyeon would still take this over nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Do you have sunscreen on?" Junmyeon asked, eyeing Baekhyun accusingly.

 

Baekhyun looked up at him from where he was ordering the muffins he had baked into a container to bring out with him. He pressed his lips together into a smile. Or maybe he did it to contain his laughter. Junmyeon shook his head at him.

 

"I got some at home, I’ll bring it. You irresponsible baby," he hissed at Baekhyun while walking past him, the offended sound he heard behind him beating laughter out of his chest.

 

He was being fussy. A bit too fussy maybe. But he was aware of it and he didn’t mind. The mid-August sun was unforgiving and Junmyeon didn’t want Baekhyun to get sunburnt on the one time of the month he got out of his house for something other than work-related things. He grabbed the bottle of sunscreen from his bathroom and walked back out of the house. 

 

Baekhyun was excited about this. He had talked to his friends about the little problem he had felt on the weekend they had spent in Jongdae’s house and they had apologized about it. Baekhyun had been happy to accept when he had gotten a call this morning to invite him to some kind of improvised picnic with Jongdae, his son, and Chanyeol. Junmyeon hoped he would enjoy this outing properly without the same issue as that weekend weighing over him.

 

He pushed the door that he had left ajar to avoid having to ring the bell and stepped back into Baekhyun’s apartment, brandishing the sunscreen like a prize as he headed to the living room.

 

"Got it!" he announced with a grin, handing the bottle to Baekhyun. "Now, apply it before you turn into a shrimp and someone accidentally eats you at that picnic."

 

Baekhyun gave him a look. "That was a lame joke," he said, although his words were skippy with little bits of laughter.

 

Junmyeon shrugged unapologetically. If Baekhyun laughed, it still was a success.

 

He turned to the container of muffins and closed the lid, pressing on it well to make sure it was sealed. When he turned back to Baekhyun, he was just standing there and extending the bottle to him.

 

"What? You’re done already?" he asked, incredulous as he took the bottle from him.

 

Baekhyun silently shook his head and leaned closer to him, cheeks gathering into mischievous plumpness as he joined his hands behind his back. Junmyeon looked at his face for a blank moment and then snorted just as he felt his heart swaying at how adorable Baekhyun looked. Standing there with his shorts and his baggy shirt and his fluffy hair and his large ears and the insistent nod he gave towards the sunscreen Junmyeon was holding.

 

"Seriously?" Junmyeon huffed in a chortle as he moved closer to Baekhyun who straightened his back and shrugged while shaking his head, eyebrows raised unapologetically.

 

Junmyeon tutted at him, at his silent act that prevented Junmyeon from even arguing with him, and simply opened the bottle to pour the product into his palm. He tucked the bottle between his knees to hold it in place and then, with a finger, he dipped into the tiny pool of product and then tapped a few spot on Baekhyun’s forehead, the bridge and then the tip of his nose, laughing when Baekhyun scrunched it at him. He drew white, thick freckles on Baekhyun’s cheeks, shaped a mustache above his lips, covering his mole, and then a beard to go along with it. He allowed himself to tickle Baekhyun under his chin and on his neck with the excuse of applying product there.

 

Baekhyun remained still all along, not losing his satisfied smile but turning it into a whine only when Junmyeon tickled him. A hand on his shoulder was enough to keep him in place, however, and once Junmyeon was done doting sunscreen on his face, he started properly applying it. He rubbed it into Baekhyun’s skin, delicate, his gaze laying on the skin as carefully as his hands were treating it. He rubbed the white in and watched it leave a slight sheen on Baekhyun’s forehead. Baekhyun scrunched his nose again when Junmyeon rubbed the cream into it and didn’t stop until Junmyeon pinched his nose and then wiped his hand on Baekhyun’s white shirt with a mock disgusted expression.

 

When he rubbed the product into Baekhyun’s cheeks, he made sure to pinch them, pull them, dragging his fingers over his face to make his features come together or come apart in grimaces that made him titter and made Baekhyun let out exaggerated groans. He didn’t pull out of Junmyeon’s hold, however, and Junmyeon rubbed around his mouth, carefully avoiding his lips, just for his own good, and uncovering his mole. It was oddly satisfying. He pulled his chin down as he rubbed over it, ignoring the weird, giggly sound Baekhyun made. It was nice. Just to touch him. Feel his skin. Feel him. Junmyeon pinched his cheeks into a funny, but adorable grimace. Watched as the sunscreen drew a glow on the higher points of his cheeks, making them illuminate the apartment like a twin pair of lighthouses every time Baekhyun grinned.

 

When Junmyeon mimicked strangling him while applying the sunscreen to his neck, and then found out that Baekhyun's ears were sensitive when he dragged his fingers over them to apply the cream to them too, Baekhyun reached to pinch his cheeks too. 

 

"You’re so cute, hyung," he said, voice a drawl, a sway in an ocean, but a crash against Junmyeon’s chest, engulfing his heart whole, bathing it in fluttery waves. "Your eyes always get so small and your cheeks so big when you smile."

 

"What," Junmyeon laughed, the way Baekhyun was pinching his cheeks making it a little difficult for him to see properly since his smile was locked in place. Though, Baekhyun didn’t need to touch him to lock his smile in place anyway.

 

Baekhyun shrugged, the curve of his lips never flattening, and he slowly let go of Junmyeon’s cheeks. Junmyeon pressed his lips together, tried not to take too deep a breath. Tried not to let his heart bump him forward with its beats. Tried not to yield to the constant craving he had for Baekhyun’s lips.

 

"All done," he said instead, patting Baekhyun’s cheeks a last time before forcing his hands to let go of his face. The softness had perhaps transferred from Baekhyun’s skin to Junmyeon’s hands. They felt mushy and tingly as he looked down and grabbed the bottle still nudged between his knees. "You should apply some on your arms and shoulders too. I don’t think your legs are in danger but it’s best to put some on any other uncovered part of yourself."

 

"Can I kiss you again?"

 

Junmyeon’s gaze snapped up to him again, fingers squeezing the bottle tightly against his chest. 

 

Baekhyun wasn’t smiling anymore. He wasn’t smiling, not awkwardly, not in satisfaction, not even that one smile he had on right before making a good joke. He was just looking at Junmyeon, gaze flitting between his eyes, the tip of his nose shining from the product Junmyeon had applied to his skin with his own hands.

 

Junmyeon’s fingers felt sticky and slippery around the bottle at the same time. His chest felt the same way. His ribcage. His heart.

 

They hadn’t talked about it. The kiss. They hadn’t mentioned it even once. Baekhyun still didn’t know if Baekhyun had liked it, had hated it, had already forgotten about it. But he was asking now. He was asking and Junmyeon felt like he was stuck in this moment and gliding towards Baekhyun at the same time. Gliding tirelessly. Gliding without even knowing if there would be something, someone to catch him at the end of it.

 

He swallowed. Hardly. His entire body felt tensed up. Not in fear. Because he wanted to jump around. Wanted his heart to make him jump around. In joy. Junmyeon couldn’t even feel dread, hesitation, or confusion. Baekhyun wanted to kiss him again. 

 

But still. Still. He had to ask. Still.

 

He parted his lips, tried forming a word. No sound came out of his mouth until the second attempt.

 

"So you liked kissing a man?" Junmyeon asked, a bit slurred, a bit too dragged, too awkward. This was a weird question, an odd formulation, but Junmyeon couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t realize anything other than the fact that _Baekhyun wanted to kiss him again._

 

Baekhyun tilted his head, hummed, looked at Junmyeon’s lips. Looked at Junmyeon’s lips. This wasn’t delusion. This wasn’t a wish. It was a wish. But it wasn’t just a wish. It was Baekhyun looking at his lips and asking if he could kiss him again. Junmyeon’s chest didn’t feel too narrow. It didn’t feel too broad. It felt just right for the heart Baekhyun made skip around inside of him, in a burst of stupor and giddiness.

 

"I don’t know," Baekhyun said, glancing at his eyes, glancing at his lips, staying there. "I just liked kissing you. For sure."

 

Junmyeon didn’t know what that meant. Had no idea what this implied. But it still made his heart implode into tiny jumpy sparks that tickled his whole body, tickled his cheeks until they retreated into a smile that hurt. The good kind of pain. The kind that Junmyeon had always wished for.

 

"You don’t have to ask to kiss me," he whispered, because this was barely even a half of his wish but he still didn’t want to scare it away.

 

"Really?" Baekhyun breathed out. Maybe Junmyeon had taken too long to give him his answer. He didn’t exactly look relieved, but he did look a little more at ease now. His teeth weren’t digging into his lips at least.

 

It made Junmyeon happy. The possibility that maybe Baekhyun had been a little nervous about his answer. He hoped he had been.

 

He nodded, unable to say anything, probably unable to use his mouth for anything except to kiss Baekhyun when he reached towards Junmyeon and pressed their lips together. This time, it was Baekhyun holding onto his shirt. This time, Junmyeon didn’t touch him. Couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t let go of the sunscreen bottle he was holding against his stomach with both hands, tightly. Couldn’t even feel anything in him, in his entire being, except the portion on his lips where Baekhyun and he twined together. The kiss.

 

This one was slower than the first one. This one was shier. This one wasn’t amongst bedsheets soaked with loneliness and low voices dripping with comfort. This one was under daylight and lucency.

 

Junmyeon pressed harder. Because Baekhyun felt hesitant. Novel. Junmyeon felt so too. He hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, before that first kiss. But kissing wasn’t something you forgot. Kissing Baekhyun wasn’t something you forgot. So he pressed harder. Slotted his lips against Baekhyun’s. Upper lip, upper lip, lower lip, lower lip. And kissed. Kissed until Baekhyun moved back a little, not parting away, just adjusting as Junmyeon leaned forward, into him. He kissed and Baekhyun kissed back. Junmyeon could feel his knuckles grazing his stomach through the fabric of the shirt Baekhyun was still gripping. He could feel the bottle of sunscreen between them when Baekhyun moved closer, when he pressed harder, caught Junmyeon’s lower lip in a kiss and then released it. 

 

It was a small kiss, didn’t last too long, nothing but lips touched, but when Baekhyun pulled away and Junmyeon blinked his eyes open, he felt like he had left a big part of him somewhere on Baekhyun’s lips. He’d never get it back. It was okay. Baekhyun’s smile was comforting, his lips were layered with safety and serenity. It would be okay there.

 

They had kissed and Junmyeon still didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know but when Baekhyun smiled at him, he smiled back, wide, bright, openly happy, a smile from the heart. When Baekhyun leaned closer, he closed his eyes, parted his lips, let out a trembly breath, and then felt something mushing against his cheek. 

 

He opened his eyes when Baekhyun rubbed his cheek against his, laughed when he almost stumbled in doing so and caught himself by holding onto Junmyeon’s hip.

 

"Now you have sunscreen on too," Baekhyun said when he leaned away again, bouncing on the soles of his feet, bouncing a smile into Junmyeon’s cheeks.

 

Junmyeon tapped the top of his head with the sunscreen bottle and pushed him out of the house, only leaving Baekhyun the time to grab the box of muffins and whine at his nagging amidst their laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon’s new favorite hobby was drawing Baekhyun. And not only drawing Baekhyun in all the funny poses he challenged Junmyeon to draw properly. Drawing Baekhyun when he was asleep.

 

Truthfully, there wasn’t much change in the dozen of chibis he had of Baekhyun sleeping. There wasn’t much room for variation in this kind of style, no real occasion to incorporate details on the expression or just the face, the strands of hair or the curve of a mouth. Drawing Baekhyun like this kind of made Junmyeon want to start practicing a different style again, a bit more realistic.

 

He could take pictures. That was something he was good at as well, but he only took them when Baekhyun was awake and could see what Junmyeon was doing. It felt wrong to take pictures of Baekhyun while he was asleep, made him feel just as pathetic as he knew he was. But he didn’t mind. Loving Baekhyun was a sensation he would never get enough of, despite the pain and the frustration.

 

Looking at Baekhyun was also something he would never get enough of. There was just something captivating about his face. It was a face Junmyeon had seen more than a hundred times approximately, since February. He had calculated it. On a day he had missed Baekhyun too much. He still wouldn’t get enough of it after seeing his face for thousands of days.

 

Junmyeon’s favorite thing to do with Baekhyun was just being with Baekhyun. They didn’t do much. They rarely ever got out together unless it was for grocery shopping or to eat when they didn’t want to cook or order in. All they did was watch things together, listen to things together, laze around together, stay home together, and that was enough. That was exactly what Junmyeon had always wanted to do. Doing nothing was lonely. Doing nothing with someone by his side was the most relaxing activity ever.

 

He thickened the petal of the flowers he had drawn in Baekhyun’s hair and looked away from his sketchbook when Baekhyun shifted, turning around towards Junmyeon with a groan. He threw an arm over Junmyeon’s lap, hooked his hand on his bare thigh, and dragged himself closer to Junmyeon who watched him, biting down his laughter because he didn’t want to wake him up. He had crashed into Junmyeon’s bed to take a nap directly after coming back from work. Junmyeon had checked a few things about his own work on his laptop before sitting next to him on the bed and quietly drawing or scrolling through his Instagram feed, messaging Minseok. He liked this. The fact that they were still always together when one of them was taking a nap. Baekhyun did the same thing when Junmyeon was the one sleeping.

 

But Baekhyun groaned anyway, his yawn-groan, the one that indicated that he was waking up, with the arms stretched, his hand extending past Junmyeon’s thigh before falling back down on it, limp. Junmyeon put his sketchbook down and smiled as he watched the flutter of Baekhyun’s short lashes, the droop more pronounced at the outer corners of his eyes when they were heavily lidded with sleep.

 

Junmyeon didn’t say anything, he silently put his hand on Baekhyun’s head, massaged for a short moment as Baekhyun closed his eyes again, before swiping his bangs up and away from his eyes when he opened them again. Partially opened them. He still looked tired, sleepy. They were making changes to the format of the radio show nowadays and it meant more meetings spent discussing what exactly they should change and how exactly they could make things more entertaining than they already were without losing the show’s caring, friendly image. Junmyeon listened to Baekhyun talk about it, whine about it often. He didn’t provide any solution though. He didn’t need to. He didn’t feel like he needed to. Baekhyun just wanted someone to listen to him whine, not someone to sort his problems out. Junmyeon was content with that.

 

Baekhyun grabbed his wrist and silently pushed his hand up to the top of his head again. Junmyeon started massaging his scalp again with a quiet, laugh. The fondness was too abundant for his cheeks to contain and he felt them twitch a little.

 

Baekhyun groaned again, then infused it into a sigh.

 

"You should kiss me," he mumbled, against Junmyeon’s thigh since he had slid even closer, pressing his forehead against it, the black of his hair darker than the black of Junmyeon’s shorts.

 

He laughed at the formulation, twirling a few strands of Baekhyun’s hair around his fingers, the length barely enough for Junmyeon to form swirling rings around the tip of a finger.

 

"Why should I?" he asked, teasing Baekhyun, enjoying the whiny and blank state that waking up from a nap always put him in. 

 

"Because I woke up," Baekhyun answered, words cut a little with pauses. He pulled away just enough to look up at Junmyeon properly. He was frowning a little. His lips were puckered, puffy from sleep, from the pout of his words.

 

Junmyeon bit his lower lip. Baekhyun made him bite his lips a lot. Soon, they would fall off, probably. He should kiss Baekhyun as much as possible before that happened.

 

But he liked this. Teasing Baekhyun. He didn’t get to do it often, except with the lamest jokes he could come up with. He liked this. He loved Baekhyun.

 

"Well," he drawled out, booping Baekhyun’s nose just because he had always wanted to do that. Baekhyun scrunched it. Junmyeon felt his heart scrunching before unravelling and pumping endearment into his being in such a fast rhythm, he feared he’d get dizzy. "I wake up every morning too but there’s no one to reward me for it with a kiss."

 

Baekhyun frowned. Looked at him. Hummed. Cute. Junmyeon gathered a few strands into a ring he made with his thumb and index finger. It made a tiny, perky ponytail on top of his head. Bean sprout.

 

"We should do that," Baekhyun said. Junmyeon raised his eyebrows, questioning him. Baekhyun hummed more. Closed his eyes. Cuddled against Junmyeon’s thigh again. "We should kiss every morning. Let’s start now. I woke up just now so it’s like a mini morning."

 

Junmyeon wanted to laugh. Because this was adorable, this was funny. But he didn’t. Because there was something that made him feel happier than laughing. He slid down until he could lay next to Baekhyun, looked into the sluggish blinking of his eyes and then leaned forward to graze a peck against the tip of his nose. He didn’t scrunch it this time. 

 

"My lips," he whined instead, his last word dragged out and skippy with laughter as he grabbed Junmyeon’s shirt and weakly pulled him closer.

 

Junmyeon snorted the start of a laugh. He didn’t mind how weird it sounded. It was a merry sound.

 

He aligned a kiss against Baekhyun’s lips and his heart into his laugh when Baekhyun wrestled him into cuddling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun kissed him a lot. He kissed him on the shoulder, on the side of his neck, on top of his head while cuddling. They kissed a lot. 

 

Junmyeon rang his bell for a kiss in the morning when they didn’t wake up in the same bed. Baekhyun was always already awake, opened the door quickly, and kissed Junmyeon. 

 

Baekhyun greeted him with a kiss when he came back from work, always later than Junmyeon.  Baekhyun rang his doorbell for a goodnight kiss and then ended up staying for a good night’s sleep instead.

 

Junmyeon muffled laughter in their kisses. Baekhyun stifled whines. Smiles. Pouts. Bad moods. Loneliness. The smoke from cigarettes they shared. The taste of the dinner they ate together. Silences. Frustrations from work. Contentment. Comfort. Junmyeon stamped his heart into Baekhyun’s lips with every kiss.

 

Junmyeon wished these kisses meant the same thing to them. Wished he could tell Baekhyun what they meant to him. 

 

He wasn’t good at talking about himself. Baekhyun had made it easier to talk about himself. But his feelings. Not his feelings. Not the ones for Baekhyun. Sometimes, he wondered if he could write them. A report on his love for Baekhyun, with the constant increases, the rates of his heart, the benefit of it, the very few tears he lost for it. He could write it. 

 

He didn’t. Instead he fed his new obsession with Baekhyun’s lips by drawing them over and over again. By kissing them over and over again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Saturday morning, Baekhyun kissed Junmyeon once, kissed him twice, kissed him until Junmyeon felt so dizzy with enlightenment he could go back to sleep with his lips still pressed against Baekhyun’s.

 

But they got out of bed soon enough and cleaned around the house. With a little music from Baekhyun’s Favorites playlist. He had a playlist for everything, Junmyeon had seen a few ones entitled ‘cleaning,’ ‘sunny days,’ and even ‘storms’. He liked all of them. He liked how Baekhyun sang along to all of them as he vacuumed as quickly as possible while Junmyeon cleaned the dust off the television.

 

Once they were done, they cleaned Baekhyun’s house. After a small nap of ten minutes, or rather a ten minute cuddling break Baekhyun dragged Junmyeon into. Not that he had to try that hard. Baekhyun’s apartment was easier to clean, they usually spent more time at Junmyeon’s when they were together and on the days that they didn’t end together, Baekhyun worked anyway so he didn’t have a lot of time to dirty it.

 

They still rewarded themselves with a lot of cans of beer picked up from the convenience store along with snacks and other smaller things since they didn’t really need to go the mart for actual grocery shopping yet. They ran back home as quickly as they could, but the ice cream was still a little melted when they plopped down on the couch. Junmyeon claimed that they totally should eat it now instead of putting it in the freezer and waiting for it to solidify properly again. What was the point of a reward if it wasn’t given right away?

 

That was what he had thought until the strawberry flavored ice cream dripped down from his fingers to his inner thigh. He looked down from the random American show they were watching on his laptop and stared at the pinkish drop sliding along his skin, towards the couch since he was sitting crosslegged. Baekhyun laughed at him and he let out a distressed sound when more ice cream dripped down his fingers. All because he didn’t like biting ice cream and it took him longer to eat it. He raised his ice cream up as if that would help and reached to lick at the bottom of it to prevent the melted parts from flooding his entire couch.

 

He looked down at the ice cream on his skin just in time to see Baekhyun flicking a finger up along his inner thigh, collecting the melted treat and scattering shudders through Junmyeon’s entire body instead. Baekhyun’s hand had touched the inside of his thigh. Baekhyun’s fingers had been very close to his crotch. On his skin. Sensitive skin. He tucked his foot a little more between his calf and his thigh, looking up at Baekhyun who was holding his own ice cream up while reaching for a tissue from the box on the table with his stained hand. Once his finger was clean, he scrunched the tissue into a ball and put it on the table.

 

Then, he looked at Junmyeon. Blinked. Just like that. He had been _this_ close to Junmyeon’s crotch and now he was back to eating the last bit of his ice cream in a single mouthful.

 

"What?" Baekhyun said, raising his eyebrows at Junmyeon. "Your ice cream is melting again," he warned him, dunking the now clean stick of his own ice cream on the table before reaching to steal Junmyeon’s right out of his hands.

 

Junmyeon dropped his sticky hands on his lap and furrowed his eyebrows.

 

"You know, I’m a man," he couldn’t help but blurt out. "I can actually get a boner if you do this kind of things," he said, vaguely gesturing towards his thighs.

 

Junmyeon was already having enough trouble dealing with the frustration induced by the constant cuddling, he didn’t need Baekhyun to start touching him like that too.

 

Baekhyun stared at him for a silent moment before looking down at his crotch. He hummed, a thoughtful expression pulling his eyebrows into a knit.

 

"Well, that’s okay. You did say you were good at wanking," was all he said before biting into the last of Junmyeon’s ice cream.

 

Junmyeon scrambled to hover his hands over his crotch. "Stop staring at my dick!" he hissed, as if that would help him contain the fluster Baekhyun had plunged him in with a single gesture.

 

Baekhyun burst into laughter, the now clean stick of his ice cream pressing into his lower lip.

 

"I can’t even see it!" he defended himself amidst chortles and the thud of the stick he threw on the table.

 

"Still," Junmyeon mumbled, putting his hands down normally and shifting on the couch, adding a few centimeters between him and Baekhyun on the couch.

 

But that turned out to be useless because Baekhyun stuck himself against him again right away, grinning as he drawled out an _oh_ stretched out into teasing notes.

 

"Are you shy, hyung?" he asked, face a bit too close to Junmyeon’s, voice a bit too low, eyes smiling so charmingly Junmyeon kind of felt like dying right then and there because this was too much. This was definitely too much attractiveness gathered in one single person and it shouldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be.

 

Hyung. Still that same, taunting, almost challenging _hyung._

 

Junmyeon let out a groan and pushed Baekhyun away with his sticky fingers on his cheeky face.

 

"Stop saying hyung like that, it might give me a boner too, you asshole," he screeched, trying his hardest to keep Baekhyun away from him with a hand on his forehead.

 

But it was difficult. Because Junmyeon couldn’t help but laugh when Baekhyun dramatically gasped at his cursing. Because Junmyeon had a hard time putting a stop to his laughter whenever Baekhyun was around. Because Junmyeon would never be able to keep himself from Baekhyun anyway.

 

Because Baekhyun started chanting _hyung_ over and over again, all cheeks and jest, and he didn’t stop until Junmyeon crushed his words into a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, when he woke up, it was to the ceaseless dream that were Baekhyun’s eyes gazing at him.

 

He smiled, parted his lips, pushed himself closer to Baekhyun and—

 

"Can I jerk you off, hyung? I’ve kind of been thinking about it since I woke up."

 

Junmyeon blinked and Baekhyun didn’t vanish, didn’t pull away, didn’t laugh. He blinked again and the sureness in his gaze didn’t disappear, didn’t lead Junmyeon to conclude he’d heard a voice that wasn’t Baekhyun’s, words that Baekhyun hadn’t pronounced.

 

“Why?” he asked in a crusty groan, a burst of surprise that ruined every trace of sleepiness in him.

 

Baekhyun kissed him. That was part of an experiment. An experiment that had been going on for so long it felt like a settlement. Baekhyun had asked to touch him. That wasn’t part of an experiment. It wasn’t an experiment. Was it an experiment? It could be a different one. But touching a man was so different from kissing a man.

 

Baekhyun shrugged. Still so casual. He’d been casual about kissing Junmyeon too.

 

“I don’t really know,” he answered, looking somewhere on the lower side of Junmyeon’s face, eyebrows furrowed. “Yesterday,” he said, glancing into Junmyeon’s eyes, looking back down again. “Yesterday you talked about it. About me giving you a boner, accidentally. It was funny at first but then I kept thinking about it. About arousing you. Then you said before, when we were drunk, that you were good at giving yourself handjobs. I’m just thinking about it. How it would feel to be able to arouse you, and then pleasure you.”

 

Junmyeon swallowed. Hearing those words alone made his breath hitch. Baekhyun thought about him in a sexual context. Since yesterday only, but still. He thought about him that way. He was aware that Junmyeon had a cock, he thought about the fact that Junmyeon had a cock that could be aroused, touched. Baekhyun didn’t just kiss him. He kissed him while being fully aware that Junmyeon was a man.

 

He’d started to doubt it, to wonder. They never talked about it.

 

Baekhyun slid closer to him. The blanket was balled up at their feet. Baekhyun could see him, could touch him, feel him when he put his hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder, slid his fingers up and cupped his neck. 

 

Effervescent. Baekhyun’s touch. It burned his skin. Junmyeon had turned numb to pain, at some point in his life. He could feel the fire on his skin, in the shape of Baekhyun’s hand. He wished he could sear it there, mark him. Just so he could carry a part of Baekhyun with him everywhere he went.

 

“I’m sorry if this sounds weird,” Baekhyun laughed. The loud one, a bit too high. The awkward one. Junmyeon had kept quiet for too long. Baekhyun looked up, skywards, sideways, back to Junmyeon’s face. “I just. I just think about it, sometimes. How you’d look in that moment. I know how you look when we kiss in the morning. I know how you look when you want to kiss me but you’re waiting for me to do it first. I want to know how you’d look when I jerk you off in the morning, when you want me to touch you.” 

 

I want to know how you’d look. You. _You._ Junmyeon. Not a man. Baekhyun didn’t want to know how a man would react to his touch. He wanted to know how Junmyeon would react to his touch. 

 

He pulled his hand away from Junmyeon. Cold. This summer morning suddenly felt wintery. 

 

“I understand if you don’t want me to. It’s not the same as kissing. It’s more. Way more intimate.” He tucked his hand against his stomach, didn’t look at Junmyeon. Shyness. His heart found it lovely, found it worth somersaulting over. “We don’t have to do it. It was just a thought. I didn’t want to keep it to myself. Because we always share. But yeah.” He looked up into Junmyeon’s eyes again. “I just really really want to touch you.”

 

Junmyeon looked at him. Like he always did. This was different. This was more. Baekhyun would take more of him through this, would dig himself deeper into Junmyeon. This would be bad. This wouldn’t be good for Junmyeon. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

 

Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around Baekhyun’s wrist and pulled. With care. Not for himself, for Baekhyun. He pulled and dived into Baekhyun’s gaze. With no care. He pulled until Baekhyun’s hand was against his crotch.

 

Baekhyun looked at his hand, at his fingertips pressed against Junmyeon, looked up at Junmyeon. This time, he was the silent, immobile one. Not stiff, not rigid. Just looking at Junmyeon. Junmyeon who was already breathless.

 

“You can touch me,” he whispered, hoped that it was hushed enough to sound like a permission and not a plea. Baekhyun swallowed, loud in the quietude of the room. Junmyeon remembered him saying he couldn’t be sexual with someone he didn’t share a bond with, remembered replying that he couldn’t either. “Whenever you want. However you want. I don’t mind if it’s you.”

 

Junmyeon had never understood the romanticism of watching a sunrise, had never really watched one on purpose. As Baekhyun’s smile flowered, he supposed it was this feeling. The calm, the peace, the sensation of renewal, the bliss of laying eyes on such magnificence. 

 

He didn’t need sunrises. This was enough.

 

That morning, Junmyeon learned that Baekhyun didn’t shy away in unfamiliar situations, didn’t feel weird at all while staring at another man’s cock for the first time ever. A bit of wonder. Fluffy chuckles. 

 

And he stared a lot. After kissing Junmyeon a lot. After pulling his shorts and underwear down with just a fleeting moment of hesitation. While pausing and studying Junmyeon’s length long enough for Junmyeon to grow just a little squirmy under him. But when Baekhyun nodded with a small hum, Junmyeon supposed he wouldn’t mind staring at it more. He did. 

 

He didn’t look away  at all while wrapping his hand at the base and wondering out loud if Junmyeon would like the same things he liked. If he would beat Junmyeon’s own hand.

 

Junmyeon learned that his favorite _hyung_ was the kind Baekhyun pronounced as he asked Junmyeon if he was doing good, if his hand suited him, if they could perhaps do this again some time.

 

He learned that while Baekhyun could arouse him like he’d never been before, he too,  could arouse Baekhyun. 

 

Baekhyun shook his head and kissed him when Junmyeon asked if he wanted to be touched. He didn’t take it to heart, it wasn’t a rejection, Baekhyun burrowed in his neck and waited for his body to calm down after Junmyeon came, he didn’t touch himself or leave the apartment. It was just new, Baekhyun said. That was okay, no matter how strong Junmyeon yearned to pleasure him, to make him happy. 

 

He could arouse Baekhyun. That was sufficient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon hummed into the phone as he carefully poured water into the pot, making sure to do it as close to the roots of the flowers as possible.

 

"I think we can do that," he said, putting the glass down on the windowsill, next to the pot. He glanced at the flowers traced on the dust of his textbook. Baekhyun had gone over it again a few days ago, after Junmyeon had asked him to. He turned to face the bed and laid his gaze on Baekhyun’s frown as he looked at his phone, laying there. "I’ll confirm it but yeah. Fine, I’ll tell him to make that," he laughed, humming again afterwards before hanging up.

 

He stretched his arms over his head, groaning as he stepped towards the bed and put his phone down on the bedside table.

 

"Minseok wants us to come over on Saturday to hang out," he informed Baekhyun as he moved to lay down beside him with another groan. "Are you free then?"

 

Baekhyun took a moment to reply, thumb sliding over his screen. He was reading the comments on the radio show’s Instagram account. He hummed then, still frowning at the screen.

 

"He asks if you can make hotteok too," he added with a quiet laugh. It was so unusual for Minseok to ask for sugary, sweet, unhealthily things to eat but Junmyeon couldn’t deny that Baekhyun made some quite amazing sugary, sweet, and unhealthy things to eat. He also supposed the seasonal change that was September threw Minseok off a little.

 

Baekhyun locked his phone and let it drop on his stomach along with his hand.

 

"Sure, I can," he mumbled, lacking the enthusiasm he usually glowed with whenever it came to baking. He especially loved when Junmyeon asked him to bake specific things.

 

Junmyeon turned to lay on his side and observed him, trailing his gaze over the faint twist of his mouth, the steadiness in his gaze as he looked at nothing in particular. He didn’t look happy today. Junmyeon shouldn’t be worried, sometimes Baekhyun wasn’t happy and sometimes, even he wasn’t happy. That was normal.

 

But he still couldn’t keep his hand from resting on Baekhyun’s arm, not squeezing nor grabbing, just staying there.

 

"What’s wrong?" he asked in an encouraging whisper, unwilling to urge Baekhyun to share things with him but still unable to keep himself from questioning him. Talking helped Baekhyun, even if all Junmyeon usually did was listen.

 

Baekhyun sighed, turned towards him, held onto his phone against his chest. He just looked at Junmyeon for a moment and Junmyeon looked back at him tranquilly, waiting with his hand still on Baekhyun’s arm.

 

"Do you think I’m attractive?" he asked in a mumble, looking down somewhere on Junmyeon’s chin and only glancing up at him once through his question.

 

Junmyeon should laugh. At that question. He should laugh at how ridiculous it was of Baekhyun to ask such a thing to someone who sometimes felt like nothing but the love he carried for Baekhyun. Or he should panic. Or lie. Protect himself. Not hurt himself.

 

But he didn’t. Instead, he rubbed his hand over his arm once, tenderly, and smiled. This was okay. He didn’t mind this, even if they had never talked about what they thought about each other, despite the kisses and the cuddles and the hand jobs in the dark and the daylight.

 

"There’s so many attractive things about you that I don’t know how I'm just not stuck to you yet," Junmyeon said, lowering his voice into a teasingly secretive tone.

 

It made Baekhyun laugh. A tiny titter out of the twisting of his mouth. A whiny _hyung_ and a small push against his chest that made his heart rake in joy at how close Baekhyun’s hand was to it.

 

His cheeks twitched up with his laugh and Junmyeon smiled back, warmth bursting through him. Nothing made him happier than making Baekhyun laugh. He could make him laugh. Someone as simple and ordinary as Junmyeon could make _Baekhyun_ laugh. Maybe he wasn’t that ordinary.

 

Baekhyun bit his lower lip and Junmyeon’s gaze fell down to the glint of white against the petal of his lip. It wasn’t as bright and lively as the flower he had gifted Junmyeon, but he still liked staring at it much more.

 

"So you think I’m attractive," Baekhyun hummed, fiddling with his phone, looking at Junmyeon properly this time but not with a steady gaze. He was unsure, still.

 

"Of course I do," Junmyeon easily affirmed. It didn’t hurt to admit that. Even if this was a casual conversation, even if what Junmyeon felt about Baekhyun was beyond attraction. Even if not telling Baekhyun he loved him was getting more asphyxiating by the day. He still wanted Baekhyun to know this. "Why wouldn’t I?"

 

Baekhyun pressed his lips together, looked away. "I don’t know," he mumbled, sighing and letting go of his phone to grab onto Junmyeon’s waist instead. Junmyeon let him pull him closer. Made himself watch the sadness tucking itself under Baekhyun’s eyebrows and slanting them up a little. He didn’t like this. "I just thought maybe I’m not. She divorced me. Left me. Maybe I’m just not attractive enough to be kept. I know it’s deeper than that. But still. She didn’t stay. So maybe I’m not. I’m not even talking physically. Just. As a person. "

 

It hurt to hear that. It just hurt. In his stomach, a sizzle, a numbness in the tip of his fingers as he slid his hand up to cup Baekhyun’s cheek. His palm adjusted to the curve of it seamlessly.

 

It was early. It had only been around five months since the divorce. That was nothing. Junmyeon wished it would all disappear.

 

But it wouldn’t. So he held onto Baekhyun’s cheek and tugged his lips into an accepting smile, small but sincere. He pressed his smile against Baekhyun’s lips, just a fleeting kiss, their noses brushing together since they were both still laying down. When he pulled away, he didn’t stray too far off, let the tip of his nose graze against Baekhyun’s.

 

"You’re attractive," he whispered, into Baekhyun’s mouth, into his breath, into his eyes. He wished it would reach his heart. But it wouldn’t. So his thumb drew the crooked shape of a heart on Baekhyun’s cheek and then pressed on it. Cradled it. "You. As a whole. Even with the bad stuff, you still are."

 

Feeling Baekhyun’s smile form against his hand was the most accomplishing sensation. Feeling his cheek bundling up against his palm, seeing his lips curving up into faint contentment, hopefully reassurance. Junmyeon kissed him. For Baekhyun. For himself.

 

He kissed the corner of his mouth. He kissed the mole above his lip, the one on his temple. He kissed the tip of nose that always looked squished between his cheeks when he smiled hard, like he was now. He kissed his temple, the skin at the corner of his eye, the plush of his eyelid when he closed his eyes. The flower of light on the highest point of his cheek.

 

He kissed the man he loved. Kissed him until he laughed so hard, Junmyeon could taste his happiness in the alliance of their lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Junmyeon arrived at the bank, it was to a bustle in the main room, everyone standing around in small groups and talking amongst themselves.

 

He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until opening time.

 

"What’s going on?" he asked as he stepped closer to where Minyoung stood with Jaehwan, Saehee, and Jeha.

 

They all looked at him at once with wide grins and Saehee was the one to grab his arm, shaking it just a little bit.

 

"Mr. Yoo is being transferred!" she said, partially in a squeal, partially in a quiet hiss.

 

Junmyeon’s eyebrows raised up and he looked at Minyoung who just nodded at him, unable to contain a wide grin that Junmyeon only saw on her face when she was a little tipsy at the end of company dinners.

 

"It worked," she said, the excitement contained in her quiet voice but not in her wide eyes.

 

Junmyeon stood there, unable to say anything for a moment as he looked between all four of his friends.

 

"Really?" he asked eventually, his voice a hush not because he wanted to be discreet but because he couldn’t get it to be louder, not over the surge of emotion splitting inside of him and fuzzing in every direction.

 

Saehee nodded, pulling Jeha back towards herself and away from Junmyeon’s arm.

 

"He’s being transferred to a branch in Namhae tomorrow. Today’s his last day here and he won’t even be in the bank either. He’s already getting all his stuff from his office."

 

Junmyeon couldn’t say anything, only looked at Jaehwan when he spoke up.

 

"It’s still somewhere as great as Namhae though. I thought he should go to prison or just get fired altogether," he mumbled, frowning as he crossed his arms over his chest in displeasure.

 

"This is still better than nothing," Minyoung chided him, looking at Junmyeon afterwards. "Right?"

 

And as they all looked at him in silence, Junmyeon could finally realize. This was happening. It had happened. They’d done it.

 

He felt his lips expanding with his smile, too wide, not controlled, not polite, nor reassuring. Just happy. Relieved. He could take a deep breath in without worrying about whether Minyoung would be fired or not. Whether he’d be fired or not.

 

"We did it," he said, looking at Minyoung, looking at the two other women who had filed in a testimony for them. "It took weeks to hear back on it but he’s leaving. He’s really leaving," Junmyeon repeated, more to himself than anything else, even if all four of his friends still nodded, laughed, and grinned. 

 

Junmyeon hadn’t seen them grin, hadn’t grinned so freely in this place before.

 

Minyoung touched his arm, squeezing a little too hard. He didn’t mind. He couldn’t really feel her touch through the elation, the pure pride he couldn’t help but nurture for everyone who had participated in this. She was smiling. He was smiling. They’d done it.

 

"Mr. Kim is waiting for you in his office," she said before leaning closer, her teeth showing in her excitement as she whispered. "He’s been appointed as the new Branch Manager."

 

"Really?" Junmyeon asked, voice peaking with surprise. 

 

"Yes!" Jaehwan perked up. "We’re not getting an unfamiliar and possibly meaner boss."

 

"But go now, he’s waiting," Minyoung cut in, pushing him towards the hallway. "Good luck!" she beamed at him, earrings glinting.

 

Junmyeon wasn’t sure what he needed luck for but he still smiled at them before heading towards the hallway. He still wouldn’t forget the lack of measures Mr. Kim had taken to help them. But he had still probably stirred his Uncle towards the right decision. He hoped so. He wasn’t that bad of a person and Junmyeon knew he would be a much better boss to work under.

 

He took a deep breath in front of the door, knocked, and stepped inside when he was called in.

 

As soon as he entered, it was Mr. Kim’s usual smile that greeted him when he looked up from papers he was signing. He was always working. Junmyeon bowed at him once he was in front of his desk.

 

"Congratulations on your new appointment, Mr. Kim," he said, meaning those words.

 

This was a deserved position. Mr. Kim had always worked harder for the bank than the Branch Manager himself.

 

"Thank you, Junmyeon," the man laughed, the smile lingering on his face when Junmyeon straightened up again to look at him. "That’s exactly why I called you here actually."

 

"How can I help you?" Junmyeon asked, joining his hands together in front of him.

 

"I need someone to fill in my position as Vice Branch Manager since it’s left vacant now," he said, putting his pen down and lacing his fingers on top of the documents.

 

Junmyeon hummed. He hadn’t thought about that. "I can give you recommendations or make you a list of our employees with the best results."

 

"There’s no need for that. I’ve already consulted Minyoung about it and she gave me the best suggestion," Mr. Kim waved him off, his smile widening. "You’ve been appointed as the new Vice Branch Manager."

 

Junmyeon stood there, looking at the new Branch Manager, lips parted and mind momentarily idle.

 

"Me?" he said, small, unsure, hand rising to rest on his chest.

 

Mr. Kim nodded, laughing a little.

 

"You," he confirmed and Junmyeon’s hand slowly dropped. He still felt a weight on his chest. A happy one. Pleasant. "You can move your stuff here tomorrow. I’ll be done moving into Mr. Yoo’s office by then and this desk will be yours," he said, patting the surface of it lightheartedly.

 

Junmyeon scrambled to bow at the man, thanking him with a loud, firm voice. He bit into his grin but couldn’t contain it, nor the merriment and the pride bubbling through him and jittering in his fingers.

 

He was advancing. He wasn’t stuck. And he didn’t feel too small to do this either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon got home with a smile on his face and the taste of Baekhyun’s kiss on the tip of his tongue.

 

They had parted ways in the hallway tonight, kissing in the silence of it, and each going back to their own homes. Because it was still nice to be alone once in a while and they both agreed on it.

 

Junmyeon’s house didn’t feel that big anymore. Baekhyun’s hoodie was on the couch, the mugs they had drunk coffee from this morning were still sitting on the living room table unwashed, and when he turned around in his bed, it wasn’t an empty space that he saw but the pillow Baekhyun usually slept on. It was still difficult to sleep alone, he didn’t like it, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it often, but he didn’t dread it as much anymore. His own company wasn’t the best he could find but Junmyeon didn’t hate it.

 

He was still happy from the celebration around barbecue with Minseok and Baekhyun, along with only few glasses of soju because all of them had to work the next morning. Even Baekhyun would be attending a meeting at the studio.

 

Junmyeon started by doing the dishes. It took a long time even if there wasn’t that many of them and he had still left the living room table half full with ashtrays and other stuff he should definitely throw out, but it was a good start. So he did the dishes on his own with the music he had picked up from Baekhyun’s radio shows.

 

He showered, keeping the music on as he washed his hair and scrubbed his body. Afterwards, he dressed himself in sweatpants and a shirt and lingered in front of his socks drawer. It was starting to get colder at night now and he grabbed mismatched socks just because, protecting his sensitive feet from the fall weather.

 

He plopped down on the couch, smoked while watching the news, and then watched the ending of a mildly entertaining show. He reached for his sketchbook  and skimmed through his last few drawings, the one of Baekhyun holding an actual bean sprout above his head while posing for Junmyeon, the one of his mother he had drawn after a call last week, and the one of Baekhyun leaning towards him with puckered lips and eyes squeezed shut. He laughed at that one, chest puffing up at once with a rush of air before deflating again.

 

He turned the page and looked at his more detailed, realistic attempt at drawing Baekhyun’s lips. He was getting a little better. Not good enough yet, one corner of his lips looked like a hole, the two peaks of his cupid’s bow were asymmetrical and he hadn’t even fully drawn the lower lip yet. He continued a little bit, adding texture to the lower lip, a shadow under the curve of it for volume, and then turned the page to draw himself. A simple chibi Junmyeon grinning with all his teeth as he held onto his tie with one hand, his favorite suit on, while the other hand was raised in a thumbs up. He sketched a little banner above, spelling ‘new job!!’ on it. Easy. It looked like him today.

 

Once he was done, it was late enough for him to go to bed. He turned around a bit but didn’t feel sleepy. He felt in a good mood. A bit restless, jittery, excited. He scrolled around on his phone a bit, put it down. He deserve a little bit of pleasure, probably.

 

He guided his hand to his crotch, massaged with his palm, closed his eyes. When he slid his hand inside and wrapped it around his hardening member, his lips parted for air and his eyes closed. Baekhyun flashed in his mind. His hands, his lips, the bare warmth of his chest. Baekhyun. That wasn’t unusual. But Junmyeon stopped, realized.

 

He didn’t have to do this alone anymore. Baekhyun was just next door. He could take three steps out of his house and then find Baekhyun for this now. They’d done it a few times. It was always just Baekhyun jerking him off, Junmyeon never returned it despite wanting to because Baekhyun had said he didn’t feel ready for that yet. But he didn’t have to do this alone.

 

He got out of bed, got out of his apartment, took three steps to his left, and rang the doorbell.

 

The door opened quickly enough.

 

"Can’t sleep?" Baekhyun asked, satisfied smile fizzing in his eyes. He didn’t look sleepy either but his hair was messy like it was whenever he got out of bed.

 

Junmyeon shrugged, leaned closer, lowered his voice. "Can’t jerk off without thinking about you."

 

Baekhyun bit into his smile, charming and only slightly painful when he looked down at Junmyeon’s crotch and made the bulge in there even more difficult to ignore. But that was okay. Because he grabbed Junmyeon’s hand, pulled him inside, pushing him against the closed door, and dropped to his knees.

 

"You can guide me, right, hyung?"

 

Junmyeon could. He could. He could guide anyone who asked this of him.

 

But as he stood there, back to the door, head tilted down, one of Baekhyun’s hands already holding onto his thigh, he felt barricaded. Lips parted, eyes looking into Baekhyun’s, body rigid, something was holding him back and as quickly as it had come, the urgency in his body crashed down.

 

He was scared his heart would too. As Baekhyun smiled up at him, crooked, confident, eager, kneeled in front of him, Junmyeon realized that he was scared.

 

Jerking someone off wasn’t the same as kissing them. Blowing someone off wasn’t the same as jerking them off. There was more. Again, there was more. It just kept growing, kept advancing, and Junmyeon had no idea where they were heading. Had no idea what fueled this, if there was enough for them to go until the end or if he’d be let down, left, pushed away. All alone again.

 

Baekhyun’s hand dropped. He tucked both of them between his thighs.

 

“We don’t have to,” he said, much quieter but not upset. He looked at Junmyeon with concern.

 

Junmyeon parted his lips, drew a shuddery breath in.

 

“Why?” he exhaled. “Why do you want to do it?”

 

Baekhyun pressed his lips together. He could stand up. He didn’t.

 

“I just want to pleasure you.”

 

“Why?” Junmyeon repeated, voice even quieter. It was scared of the answer. It didn’t want to hear it. But Junmyeon had to. He had to ask, at this point. He had to. He felt like an inexperienced child with all these why’s, oblivious, dependent, and fragile. That was it. In Baekhyun’s hands, Junmyeon was like a child. But he had to ask. “Why are you doing all this? We’ve done enough for you to know if you could be attracted to men.”

 

Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows. “This isn’t an experiment,” he said and he sounded so sure. So sure. Junmyeon couldn’t tell if he really did or if this was just him wishing that Baekhyun was sure about this. “I’m not doing all this because it’s an experiment. I’m doing it because I enjoy it. I enjoy doing all these things with you.”

 

“Really?” was what escaped Junmyeon before he could hold it in. Stupid, eager, dependent, fragile child. 

 

Baekhyun laughed. It was appeasing, quiet, warmed by familiarity.

 

“Haven’t you given me enough boners to already figure that out on your own, hyung?”

 

Junmyeon laughed. He threw his head back too abruptly and it bumped against the door. Baekhyun snorted. He was so beautiful when he smiled. Junmyeon loved him so much. So much that he didn’t say anything, to make sure he wouldn’t say it.

 

Baekhyun shrugged then, abrupt, almost timidly even as he stared right into Junmyeon’s eyes.

 

“Maybe it’s because I never let you touch me,” he said and this wasn’t the kind of conversation they should have while Baekhyun was on his knees, face much too close to Junmyeon’s boner.

 

“I don’t mind,” he hurried to reassure him. He didn’t want Baekhyun to feel like he had to force himself. He understood. Nobody had touched Baekhyun in years except for Hyeran. He could imagine how weird and difficult it would be to be touched by someone else after so long.

 

Baekhyun shook his head, remained silent. Junmyeon shared that moment with him, the silence, as they did nothing but look at each other. Baekhyun enjoyed touching him. He did all of this because he enjoyed it, not because he wanted to figure out his sexuality. They looked at each other in silence but in Junmyeon’s chest, silence had become a foreign concept a long time ago. In Junmyeon’s chest, Baekhyun was the only notion.

 

“I know you don’t,” Baekhyun eventually said, speaking first again. He glanced down and his eyes found Junmyeon again almost right away. He straightened his back with a deep breath. “But I want to try it. You touching me. I really want to try it. Maybe not a lot, maybe we could go slowly for me to get used to someone else’s hands.” He stopped and huffed out a laugh. “Or maybe as soon as you touch me I’ll just want you to never stop. I don’t know. But I’d like to try it tonight. If you want.”

 

And how could Junmyeon refuse? How could he refuse something he wanted so much it felt like he’d been wanting it his whole life? How could he deny Baekhyun when _he_ _wanted Junmyeon to touch him?_

 

He nodded, biting into his lips to tame a grin. It didn’t work. Baekhyun grinned back at him, laughed, and tugged his pants down. Junmyeon cupped his cheek, trailed his hand to the back of his head, fit his fingers in his hair, and guided him forward.

 

Junmyeon seriously wondered how he had ever thought his own hand would be more than enough for him. Nothing came close to this.

 

But maybe his hand wasn’t that bad. Baekhyun seemed to enjoy the feel of it when he wrapped it around him. He was silent and nervous at first but when he held onto Junmyeon’s arm, arched against him, kissed his neck as he came, Junmyeon knew nothing would give him as much euphoria as being able to make Baekhyun feel like this.

 

 

 

 

 

Glasses clinked, meat cooked, and agreeable conversations formed Yonghwa Bank’s first dinner after the changes made in the direction.

 

Junmyeon hadn’t enjoyed a simple meal with the thirteen employees of the bank this much since his very first Friday at work. Everyone could laugh freely, there was no strain on anyone’s face, and despite the seniority hierarchy still affecting the mood and behavior of everyone, it wasn’t in a pressuring way. 

 

Minyoung smiled freely as she clinked her glass against Jaehwan’s and the youngest intern cooked the meat without anyone rushing him with barked orders. All female employees were present at the dinner, none of them had come up with excuses to skip it, and none of them looked regretful either. Junmyeon, along with the Branch Manager, had made sure to warn everyone of sanctions in case of complaints concerning harassment at work earlier this week, in the meeting they held to properly announce changes. He had given pointed looks to people he knew had profited from the behavior of the former Branch manager.

 

He knew things wouldn’t suddenly start being perfect at the bank but he was hopeful for at least a more enjoyable workplace for everyone. They had already even settled on the fact that the karaoke sessions after dinner didn’t have to be weekly, mandatory events and that there would be no repercussions if people stayed only for the dinner and went back home afterwards. Junmyeon didn’t want this to be a burden to anyone.

 

"Are you going to be with us every week then, Mr. Kim?" Jeha asked the Branch Manager, holding out a dish full of perilla leaves to him.

 

He took it with both hands and shook his head, an easy smile on his lips.

 

"No, I won’t change my habit of skipping this kind of meeting," he said, making Junmyeon laugh at his unapologetic expression. "I’m only attending this one since it’s our first after the changes but I won’t again, unless there are special things to celebrate. I think you’ll have much more fun without your boss looming over you anyway, right?" he asked to everyone in general, earning goodhearted laughter all over the table.

 

Junmyeon parted his lips to say something but stopped when he felt his phone vibrating in the inner pocket of his blazer. He pulled it out and took a quickly glance, frowning at the name displayed on the screen. He excused himself with a few words and quickly got out of the room, finding a quiet spot in the hallway. Baekhyun usually never called him. They never called each other, they didn’t need to.

 

He picked up with a rushed swipe over the screen.

 

"Hyung," came the scratchiness of Baekhyun’s voice. "When are you coming home?"

 

Junmyeon’s lips remained parted but silent for a moment. He sounded weak. It wasn’t even a whine in his voice, just a drag. 

 

"What’s wrong?" Junmyeon asked, hand hovering in front of him uselessly. There wasn’t anything to hold nor anyone to see his hand in front of him. Junmyeon just felt frozen there, standing, listening to Baekhyun’s breathing for any sign. It was just worry clamping his hand and keeping it there. "Did something happen?"

 

"No," Baekhyun sighed, loud, enough for Junmyeon to press his lips together and press the phone harder against his ear as if that would help him hear better. "Nothing happened. I just." He stopped. Exhaustion. It was that exhaustion. The one Baekhyun got at the end of his day sometimes. Tired inside. Not physically. Just in the soul. "I just don’t feel great."

 

The end of his word snapped into a crack and when Junmyeon heard the sniffle that followed, he pressed his back against the wall, held onto a lapel of his blazer with his hand. Felt himself keeling. Baekhyun was sad.

 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Junmyeon whispered, not because Baekhyun sounded fragile, but because his own voice felt fragile and he didn’t want to break it when Baekhyun’s was already so deformed from the usual. But it was still his voice. Not the first time Junmyeon had heard it.

 

"I just," Baekhyun repeated, pausing to take a deep breath in, and then sniffling more. A rustle. Bedsheets. "I just feel so, so fucking ugly. And useless. And bad. And unattractive. And empty." A deep breath that sounded narrow. "So fucking empty. But full. Stuffy." A mushed voice. Not by a smile. By the cry Baekhyun was holding inside.

 

And Junmyeon knew. Understood. Felt it inside of him. Because this was Baekhyun. Because he was Junmyeon.

 

He took a deep breath in. Looked around. Looked behind him, towards the room, towards the people from his company. Looked down at his shoes. Closed his eyes.

 

"Just," he said, stopping to swallow. He hated this. He hated it so much. He wished he could just absorb all the pain inside of Baekhyun and make it easy. Wished he could just erase it all. But he couldn’t. This was Baekhyun. This too, was Baekhyun. And Junmyeon accepted it. "Wait for me to come home. I’ll be there in a bit. I’m on my way."

 

Baekhyun hung up after a hum and Junmyeon, still holding onto his phone, put a smile on and went back to the table. It wasn’t difficult to excuse himself from it. He apologized at least ten times, apologized each time Mr. Kim waved him off and told him to attend to his family emergency. He promised to make it up to them by working extra hard at the company and paying for next week’s drinks. The Branch Manager assured him he’d probably die if he tried working harder and sent him off with an easy smile. His friends waved at him and told him to go home safely.

 

Junmyeon hopped into the first taxi he could find and politely urged the driver to reach his address as fast as possible. He couldn’t even see the lights flashing by as they drove, couldn’t even feel the corner of his phone digging into the underside of one of his knuckles as he gripped it hard, his leg bouncing.

 

He paid off the driver and got out of the car as soon as it stopped, not bothering to take the change.

 

He rang the doorbellt. The door opened immediately, Baekhyun’s shoulder slumped against the wall. He had been waiting. Sorrow made his eyes into even more of a lull than usual, pulled them down further at the corners. Junmyeon didn’t like it. He stepped inside, closed the door behind himself, and pulled Baekhyun into his arms. He didn’t hug Junmyeon back. It didn’t mean he disliked it. It meant he didn’t have the strength and energy to. Instead, he squished his nose against Junmyeon’s neck. They stood there, Junmyeon just holding Baekhyun in silence.

 

Baekhyun was the one to lead him to the bedroom by the hand, was the one to cuddle up to him as they laid down. Junmyeon let him. Squeezed him as tight as possible without it hurting him. Held him. He wished he could squeeze the pain out of Baekhyun. The loneliness. He wouldn’t be able to. Because Baekhyun couldn’t squeeze it out of him either. They could only hold each other through it. Gather each other together to make sure they wouldn’t get lost, diluted in the deeply engraved, deeply infested emotion that was loneliness. And that was enough. He hoped it was for Baekhyun too.

 

They didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stayed in silence, stayed in each other.

 

It was Baekhyun who spoke, maybe half an hour later, maybe three hours later, maybe at dawn. It didn’t matter. Junmyeon would listen to him at any time of the day, at any time of the night. Any time.

 

"I know I keep refusing to talk about love, keep saying it’s dead," he said, lips searing his words against the skin of Junmyeon’s collarbones. His hands held onto his waist, Junmyeon’s own in his hair and on his nape. "But." A breath. A crack. A tear. "But I’m so scared that I’ll die without it. It’s stupid. I know it is. I’m just being dramatic maybe. So stupid. But I’m just so afraid of it never happening again. Not in me, but to me. For me."

 

Baekhyun was scared and Junmyeon felt nothing remotely close to it. Now, he didn’t. But sometimes, he did. At night. While thinking about Baekhyun never loving him back. This was what Baekhyun felt now.

 

Except Baekhyun didn’t wish Junmyeon would love him. He wished someone would love him.

 

And Junmyeon. Junmyeon just held him tighter. Junmyeon just blurted it out.

 

Not for himself. Not because Baekhyun needed to hear it.

 

Just because. Just because—

 

"I love you."

 

Nothing. A long nothing.

 

The answer to something that meant everything to him, was nothing.

 

Junmyeon felt like dying. Felt like withering. Felt like he was shrinking.

 

Felt Baekhyun’s fingers hold onto him tighter when he moved a little.

 

"Please stay."

 

Junmyeon stayed there and let Baekhyun curl into his chest. Embraced him and didn’t let go.

 

Junmyeon stayed there, not because Baekhyun had asked him to. Not because he felt obligated to by his feelings.

 

Junmyeon stayed there because he had said it. It was out. He hadn’t been given an answer, but he had been heard.

 

Baekhyun had heard him and still hung onto him tightly, still weaved their legs together, still pressed against him so close, no dust could separate their bodies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They didn’t talk about it. Nothing changed. 

 

Baekhyun just stared at him more. He stayed with Junmyeon, talking, laughing, doing nothing, then left suddenly and came back right after. Said nothing and then talked for a whole ten minutes. Didn’t smile and then looked at Junmyeon with the biggest grin held up by his cheeks. Touched more. Called him more. Never hurt him. Always stayed with him.

 

Junmyeon just allowed himself to take care of Baekhyun more, stare more, kiss more, just be with him more. Love him more openly. Didn’t stop himself from trailing fingers into the strands of hair behind his ears. Didn’t bite his kiss down instead of confiding it to Baekhyun’s cheek when he laughed. Didn’t tell him he loved him again, but didn’t hide it either.

 

He didn’t expect Baekhyun to suddenly be okay because someone loved him, that wasn’t why Junmyeon had told him. He had told him because it was tiring to keep it in. He didn’t expect Baekhyun to suddenly jump into his arms either. He had just wanted him to know. He wanted Baekhyun to know he loved him, just because he loved him.

 

He wanted Baekhyun to love him too. So much. So much that some nights he stopped himself from getting up from his bed and rushing to Baekhyun’s. If he were strong enough, Junmyeon would put an end to this. Loving Baekhyun made him so happy but it made everything more painful too. No matter how many times he deluded himself into thinking that he didn’t mind, that he could love Baekhyun without being loved back, he just couldn’t believe it all the time.

 

Not when Baekhyun laughed at him. Not when Baekhyun pulled him into his arms with a sleepy _yay_ to cuddle at night. Not when Baekhyun was everywhere, in his home, in his bed, in his weekends, in the end of his days, in his heart. Not when Baekhyun was Baekhyun.

 

But Baekhyun always ended up in his bed anyway. Still, Baekhyun wanted him. Wanted to be with him.

 

And Junmyeon was happy. Despite it all, he was happy with this. He was content. He didn’t want to go back to a Baekhyun-less bed. To a Baekhyun-less life. Staring at the bleakness in it. 

 

Baekhyun came to him even if he knew. And Junmyeon was glad he knew. Glad he knew that every little thing Junmyeon did for him was filled with love. That was enough. 

 

Sometimes, that was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How many times did I tie that already?" Junmyeon laughed as he reached for the two threads hanging by Baekhyun’s side.

 

"I don’t know," Baekhyun said, looking at him over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and a surprised depth to his voice. "You must really suck at tying aprons."

 

"Right. That must be why it keeps untying itself," Junmyeon said, pulling on the lapels harshly, enough for Baekhyun to stumble back a little and laugh. Carefully, he tied his apron for the fourth time, not too tight but not too loose either, and patted his back once he was done. "All done."

 

"Thank you, hyung," Baekhyun chirped, bending his knees and tilting his head backwards until the top of it bumped against Junmyeon’s chin. He held onto Baekhyun’s waist to make sure he wouldn’t fall and laughed, pulling his head back and pushing him away with a groan that only made Baekhyun groan back at him louder.

 

They’d spontaneously decided to bake this morning, after Junmyeon had voiced out a craving for something sweet and Baekhyun had perked up and suggested they got to the convenience store for the few ingredients they were missing. They had ended up buying more beer than anything else but that was okay. They had also taken a nap instead of baking for lunch but that was okay too.

 

They’d started now and Junmyeon had never really helped Baekhyun bake but today, he had wanted to give it a try. Though, he hadn’t expected it meant having to tie Baekhyun’s apron every five minutes and escape his attempts at tickling Junmyeon with a spoon.

 

What he had expected, was the laughter. Because there was always laughter between them. So much laughter when Baekhyun tried to trace a mustache on Junmyeon’s upper lip with a finger dipped in flour, when Junmyeon stumbled back to escape him and accidentally knocked the pack of flour on the counter. 

 

Baekhyun dramatically gasped, pointing at him with a white finger.

 

"Look what you’ve done!" he accused Junmyeon, bursting into laughter when Junmyeon tried to catch his finger and twist it. Or just hold it. That was nice too. But Baekhyun was quick and grabbed the bowl with the batter they’d use to bake sponge cake and protected himself with it.

 

"I spilled it because of you," Junmyeon groaned, looking down and happily noting that nothing had spilled on the floor. Well, not enough for him to panic at least.

 

"Yes, maybe," Baekhyun said, nodding once with every word. He looked up at Junmyeon, mixing in the batter with a spatula while grinning in satisfaction. "But you’re the one who spilled it anyway. So you’re the one who should clean it."

 

Junmyeon huffed but moved closer to the counter and stood there, watching the long, lump of flour on the surface. He wasn’t sure how he should clean that. He touched it with three fingers and scrunched his nose at the flour that clung to his skin when he pulled them up again. Baekhyun snorted from next to him, turning it into a whiny, full laugh when Junmyeon looked at him and flicked the flour that was on his fingers into his face instead. Junmyeon reached a good enough level of satisfaction when Baekhyun spluttered and stepped away, so he grabbed the half empty bag of flour, and started scooping what was on the counter into it. Luckily, Baekhyun had made him clean the counter before starting to bake.

 

Once he was done, only a faint layer of dusty white left on the counter, and a thicker layer of it covering his palm, Junmyeon stepped towards the sink. But instead of washing his hands, he watched the way Baekhyun’s tongue peeked out between his lips as he carefully separated an egg yolk from the white of it, letting the yellow plop into the batter afterwards.

 

Junmyeon stood beside him and watched Baekhyun whisk the batter more, the black grain that was the mole on his thumb blurred by a thin layer of flour as it held onto the recipient.

 

He wondered if they’d be using whipped cream at some point. Probably not, but it would be nice. He’d use it to get his revenge. Though, Baekhyun would be faster than him. His face would probably already be coated with whipped cream by the time Junmyeon even started reaching for it. Baekhyun was always so fast, too quick and abrupt in his pranks and his teasing.

 

"I like you, hyung."

 

Junmyeon looked up at him, snatching his gaze away from how nice Baekhyun’s fingers looked wrapped around the handle of the spatula handle. Baekhyun was still looking down at the batter. Junmyeon looked down at it. it was perfectly mixed in. Baekhyun still continued stirring.

 

He should say something. Should laugh. Should ask Baekhyun why he was being so cheesy so randomly.

 

That was what he would’ve done had he not told Baekhyun that he loved him a week ago. Now, Junmyeon could only stand there, shift the weight on his legs, as he stared at Baekhyun and wondered. Wondered if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Wondered if his heart was beating fast to ready himself for a break or the highest bounce into exhilaration.

 

He hummed, questioning. His hands were pressed too hard on the counter, the edge digging into his palms. He didn’t trust himself to say anything now.

 

"I like you," Baekhyun repeated, finally putting the bowl down, the whisk sliding along the rim before standing still and slanted. Baekhyun looked up at him. He wasn’t talking fast enough. This wasn’t a joke of any kind. The steadiness in his eyes wasn’t soft, nor was it droopy. It was confident and firm. "I don’t love you now. But I like you."

 

 _Now._ He didn’t love Junmyeon _now._

 

And Junmyeon shouldn’t get his hopes up. But he loved Baekhyun so much.

 

He pressed his lips together, parted them, raised a hand and a few particles of flour flew up between them. He hadn’t washed his hand. Baekhyun didn’t even glance at it, didn’t look away from his eyes. Didn’t look sad, nor regretful. Not sorry either. He just seemed sure.

 

Sure that he liked Junmyeon. And like wasn’t weak. It wasn’t weak at all.

 

Junmyeon had thought about it. About his confession. About Baekhyun’s silence. It didn’t feel like Baekhyun had ignored him. He wasn’t upset about it. He would’ve liked an answer, a positive one, a return of his own words.

 

But was it bad? Was it bad that Baekhyun didn’t love him? Was it final? It wasn’t. Junmyeon didn’t mind, because that lack of answer, he hadn’t thought it would last forever. And it hadn’t. Baekhyun was addressing it now. Talking about it. Giving him an answer.

 

"That’s okay," Junmyeon said, to himself. 

 

He shook his head, pressed his lips into a smile. His heartbeat was still jolting through his whole body, still too quick, too strong, too unsure. But he wasn’t unsure about everything. He took a deep breath in and shook his head. 

 

"You know, you don’t fall in love with someone for the same reasons why they love you." 

 

He had thought about that too. Baekhyun’s gaze flitted between his two eyes, observed, took Junmyeon in. He couldn’t give an exact answer to the why. He didn’t even need to know why, he wasn’t sure it was even possible to know why. But he had thought about it, still.

 

Junmyeon loved Baekhyun because he was silence, just like him. Because he was full. Because he was dazzling. Because he felt Junmyeon the same way Junmyeon felt him. Because he kept Junmyeonnie and Baekhyunnie on his fridge. Because he still used the lighter Junmyeon had given him. Because he was Baekhyun. Just because he was Baekhyun. He smiled. Easing himself, easing Baekhyun’s lips into a reflection of himself. 

 

"You don’t fall in love with someone at the same moment they fall for you. Love isn’t scheduled, isn’t planned, isn’t even accurate. I found reasons to love you. Maybe you don’t feel any reasons to love me now." He shrugged, puffing out a small laugh. Junmyeon felt much, much bigger than that tiny sound. Big enough to fit inside of him all the love he felt for Baekhyun. Its endless expansion. "But maybe you will. Maybe you’ll see reasons someday. And if you don’t, it’s alright. Now, I still love you. "

 

He couldn’t tell Baekhyun until when he’d love him. If it’d last forever, or if it would start dying the moment spring began to bloom next year. He couldn’t tell if this was true love, if this would be his only love.

 

But right now, Junmyeon loved him. Right now, Junmyeon didn’t feel like it would end soon. Even if he had to wait ten years to be loved back. He could do it. It would be difficult. Painful. But love was worth it. Because that was how much Junmyeon loved Baekhyun. Because that was what love was. 

 

Baekhyun smiled, stepped closer. In front of Junmyeon despite the loneliness, despite the sadness, despite the mess that Junmyeon sometimes shriveled into.

 

"I’ll find them," he said, the corners of his lips not jumping into a smile but his eyes uncovered as they looked into Junmyeon’s. "I’ll love you." A stop. A smile. A twitch. These words were difficult for Baekhyun. Junmyeon’s lips parted, a shuddery intake of breath. A caress against the deepest part of him. Baekhyun shook his head. "It’s not a promise. I can’t promise something like that. I wouldn’t. It’s not a promise, it’s a prediction. Because when I look at you, I can tell." A stop. Two gazes meeting, trailing over a face, watching, seeing, meeting again. Still, meeting. "I can just tell that I will."

 

That was enough. Right now, that was enough.

 

Because Baekhyun wasn’t playing with him. Wasn’t giving him false hope. Junmyeon wouldn’t believe that someone who had a hard time falling asleep without him was fooling him. Because this was Baekhyun, who didn’t say it back, but had heard him, had told him that he had heard him. That he felt him, different but not so much. And maybe one day, Baekhyun would love him.

 

Junmyeon didn’t stand there. His heart unraveled, pushed him, filled him up, no empty edges or nooks. Joy. Only joy. And Baekhyun. He moved forward, shaped his smile into Baekhyun’s, and raised his a hand to cup the radiance of it on his cheek.

 

Before his hand could touch him, Baekhyun pulled away with narrowed eyes.

 

"You have flour on your hands," he said, so serious, so different from what he had been saying a moment ago that Junmyeon couldn’t help but but snort.

 

"Whose fault is that?" he asked, raising his floury hand and threatening to stamp it onto Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun laughed as he wrapped his hand around his wrist and brought it down. "It’s better than dust," Junmyeon grumbled as his gaze found Baekhyun’s mouth and longed for it.

 

He watched the laughter spread on Baekhyun’s lower lip as he reached for the sink, turned on the tap, wet one finger, turned it off, and then traced it inside Junmyeon’s hand. 

 

"Now it’s better," Baekhyun murmured and by the time Junmyeon managed to rip his gaze away from his lips to look at what he was doing properly, he had already moved to complete his lips with Junmyeon’s in a kiss.

 

A laugh between pecks, a small whine when Junmyeon pinched Baekhyun’s side, a groan when Baekhyun wrapped his arms around his waist and stuck them together. Love. A lot of love. 

 

Not one-sided. Not entirely. Not unchangingly.

 

When they parted away, Junmyeon still felt the completion, still felt the laughter Baekhyun had left on his lips, still felt the broadness of his feelings as he looked down. Felt it grow even more when he saw it, felt himself growing along with it.

 

On his palm was a flower, drawn in the dust by Baekhyun’s finger.

 


End file.
